Ours to Fight For
by chocolatequeen
Summary: Post Zero Hour, sequel to What Difference Does it Make, AT friendly
1. Default Chapter

Title: Ours… To Fight For

Author: Chocolatequeen

Rating: PG

Summary: Post Zero Hour/sequel to my fic "What Difference Does It Make?"

**Chapter 1:**

Earth, which had looked so beautiful only an hour ago, now ominously filled the view screen. From the moment they had seen it, something had been amiss—the orbital stations were missing, Starfleet wasn't responding to their hails, and now they were out of touch with members of their own crew. "Mr. Tucker, Mr. Mayweather, report," T'Pol requested for the third time in as many minutes.

She turned away slightly after doing so, not expecting this attempt to achieve better results than the previous two. A quick expression of surprise flashed across her face when she heard a familiar voice say, "Tucker here… we're coming home Enterprise."

That was not what she had expected to hear. T'Pol arched an eyebrow, wondering what could have happened. Surely they had not already landed in San Francisco and turned in their report to Admiral Forrest, not enough time had elapsed. "Very well Commander, would you both please come directly to my ready room when you arrive?" she ordered mildly, knowing intuitively that something was very wrong.

She wasn't the only one—Malcolm had been on high alert since they'd realized the satellites were gone. Too many things just didn't add up and now… "We'll be there Ma'am," Travis answered, and his voice was hoarse even to Malcolm's  untrained ears.

i

_"I wonder what they found,"/i _he thought to himself. i_"__Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't good. I'd better be ready for whatever they throw my way,"/i _he told himself, getting his station into even better order than it usually was.

When the shuttle landed, the two officers immediately headed for the ready room, as they'd been ordered. The few people they passed in the corridor looked at them strangely, taking in their stiff bearing and pensive, almost brooding demeanor. Where were the smiling faces they'd expected to see at the successful end of such a long and dangerous mission?

They ignored the looks they were getting though. They had seen some disturbing things in the three years since Enterprise left home, but being shot at by what appeared to be World War II planes pretty much took the cake.

"Travis, we can't tell her," Trip insisted as they got into the lift. "I don't get why you can't see that."

"And I don't get why don't you want to admit that we might be in the 20th century," Travis countered.

"I just… I don't think it's logical," Trip blustered, unwilling to give his true reason. The fact was, thinking about time travel again after their recent experience with the second Enterprise had brought out all the doubts he'd been feeling about his relationship with T'Pol. That Enterprise had traveled back in time, and that Trip and T'Pol had managed to forge a relationship, a marriage even.

Thinking that the same thing might have happened to them brought up all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. After his discussion with Malcolm about having the future revealed to you, he'd been comforting himself with the fact that the timeline had not progressed the way it had for the other ship, so if he did end up marrying T'Pol, it would be because they loved each other. But if they had traveled through time too… if they had, and if they got back to their own time, he'd have to work it out in his head all over again.

"Commander, I just don't think it's a good idea keeping this from her," Travis replied doubtfully, interrupting his thoughts. "What if they really were…"

"That's just it!" Trip interrupted, not wanting to hear another word about time travel or alternate timelines. "We don't know if they were or not, and it's not going to do us any good to go getting the crew all worked up over what may be nothing. Now, just keep it to yourself," he ordered just as the lift stopped. He stepped out onto the bridge, shooting the younger officer a warning look as they made their way to the ready room.

"Were you able to learn anything?" T'Pol asked them, staring intently at Trip.i _"He is avoiding direct eye contact, a certain sign that he is hiding something," /i_she realized."What did you discover?" she demanded, determined to hear everything that had happened.

"Well… it's kinda hard to explain…" Trip hedged, not wanting to tell her what they'd seen. "I suppose you could say we were attacked," he said quietly. i_"__Well it's the truth!"/i_ he told his protesting conscience. i_"__Just because I leave out what attacked us doesn't make it a lie,"/i_ he asserted.

"But why would they attack an Earth vessel?" she rebutted, quickly finding the holes in his story. "That is highly illogical, especially when they must have known we were in the vicinity."

Up until now, Travis had been reluctantly obeying the order he'd been given. However, when it became clear that the Sub-commander wasn't accepting the story Trip was giving her, he decided to tell her the truth. Truth may be stranger than fiction, but in this case it might also be more believable. "The commander isn't telling you the weirdest part Ma'am," he interjected.

Trip tossed him a warning look and said, "Travis…"

"No Commander, I know what I saw!" Travis said, shaking his head emphatically.

Completely forgetting T'Pol was in the room, Trip wheeled on him and said, "We can't be certain! You could be wrong, and this could all be pointless!" he added, waving his hands in the air to punctuate his points.

"Or I could be right, and we could be risking the ship and everyone's lives if I don't tell her."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, the back and forth discussion between the two men telling her that something of great interest had happened on the surface. "Would you please tell me what you thought you saw Ensign? I will be the judge of it's likelihood and usefulness," she ordered.

Glad to be let off the hook, Travis willingly complied, facing her and straightening as he spoke. "What attacked us… it wasn't Star Fleet Ma'am. It wasn't even from our century."

If Trip had been watching her instead of glaring at Travis, he would have caught a glimpse of surprise flicker in her eyes before it changed to acceptance and understanding. "When exactly do you think it originated, Ensign Mayweather?"

The knowledge that he was being taken seriously emboldened Travis, and he said, "They were World War 2 planes Sub-commander."

 "Travis, there's no way they were antique planes!" Trip argued. It was clear from his exasperation and the quiet patience Travis replied with that this was something he had said more than a few times on the way back to the ship.

"I never said they were antique sir, all I said is that they're World War 2 fighters. P-51 Mustangs, to be precise," Travis expounded, warming to his subject.

"Are you certain Ensign?" T'Pol questioned, cutting off the retort Trip wanted to make. For some reason, he was unwilling to believe this, but she needed to know as much as possible before she could decide on their next course of action.

"Positive Ma'am. I've done a lot of studying of older aircraft. There's no way those planes were anything but Mustangs. My guess is they were P-51 D's, or maybe H's. They were made during the last few years of the war for the Allied forces."

"Sub-commander, with all due respect to Travis here… there's just no way! I mean, if they were Mustangs, we'd be back in 1944! Like I said, there's just no way!" His wild gesticulation had slowed, but he was still shaking his head violently against the very idea. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. It would change everything.

"Commander Tucker, if there is one thing I have learned during my tenure on Enterprise, it is that where time travel is concerned, nothing is truly impossible," she replied dryly. "If we have indeed traveled back in time, it would account for our inability to reach Star Fleet."

"It would also explain the missing satellites," Travis realized, rocking back on his heels as he considered the possibilities.

"That is correct," she said approvingly. "At this point, I don't believe we can rule out any answer."

"But T'Pol!" Trip protested, finally losing the formality he'd cloaked himself in, his anger and frustration getting the better of him. "That's just too bizarre! How would we have gotten here anyway?" he pointed out, crossing his arms in front of him, sure that he'd bested her.

"I did not say I am certain time travel has occurred, simply that we cannot yet say it has not," she told him smoothly. "There's an old adage, 'Eliminate the impossible, and whatever remains, however improbable, must be the answer.' We must start by eliminating the impossible… Earth is still here, so the Xindi did not succeed. That cannot be the reason for Star Fleet's silence. Beyond that, there is research to be done. Mr. Mayweather, I want you to find everything you can on these planes. The more positively we can date them, the better idea we'll have of when we are, if we have indeed traveled through time."

"Yes Ma'am," Travis said before leaving the ready room.

Trip waited until he had left before turning the full power of his disapproval on T'Pol. "What do you think you're doing?" he then railed bitterly, his voice low and tense and clearly expressing his displeasure with her course of action.

"I am trying to discover exactly what has happened here. Even you cannot deny that something is not right," she told him calmly.

"Well yeah, but… time travel?? I thought you didn't believe in that stuff anyway!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

She tilted her head slightly in agreement, saying, "I confess, it still does not set well with my view of science, but certain things I have seen make it impossible for me to deny that it exists. Traveling back to the 21st century forced me to open my mind to the possibility, at the very least."

"Great, just great. Here I thought you'd be all logical and everything, and instead you're turning in to… oh… Daniels or something!" he muttered, plopping down on a chair in frustration.

T'Pol eyed him, curious at his reaction. "I am unsure why you are so upset with this. You never had a problem believing in time travel, why do you find it so disturbing now?" she questioned.

"Because!" he exploded. "Because," he continued more quietly, trying to find a reason to give besides his doubts about their relationship. "Because if we traveled back in time, then we have no way of knowing if our mission really succeeded, or if the Xindi just went right back and made another weapon. And if we traveled back in time, then we could leave a message for people on Earth, or for the Xindi for that matter, and maybe none of it would ever happen at all. Because there's a chance that maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to save my baby sister, but I'll never know if it came true."

"I see," T'Pol replied thoughtfully. "You are afraid."

"I'm not!" he protested, backpedaling a little when T'Pol gave him a knowing look. "Well… maybe a little. There's a lot of power that goes with time travel," he said, realizing it for the first time. His original dilemma with their relationship faded into the background as he struggled with the ethics of time travel. "I mean, we could go down there with our shuttles and help out with D-Day, if we're in time," he said, warming to his topic. "There's a lot we could do, but we can't… it's like Lorian said about the old Enterprise. They couldn't go back to Earth, because they would have been contaminating the culture. It's the same for us," he concluded, not hearing that he had just tacitly admitted they were in the 20th century.

T'Pol eyed him for a moment, seeing that he had come to grips with the possibility and was ready to accept his orders. "It is pointless to discuss this further until we are sure of what happened," she said, her logical conclusion cutting the conversation short. "I suggest you take Lt. Reed with you tonight and fly down to the surface. Look for any signs that we have indeed traveled back in time."

"What exactly should I look for?" he questioned, wondering how he was supposed to be able to tell what century they were in without talking to people.

"Look for landmarks that were destroyed in the third world war," she suggested. "Earth is not the same today as it was 200 years ago, there should be obvious discrepancies if we are in the 20th century, as Ensign Mayweather believes."

"Yes Ma'am," Trip agreed reluctantly, still not wanting to believe they'd traveled in time, but now for a completely different reason. As soon as he'd mentioned saving Lizzie, he'd gotten an idea straight out of i_Back__ to the Future_,/i and he was sorely tempted to try it. All he'd have to do was leave a letter for her, one that wouldn't be delivered to her until the morning of the attack… he could make sure she wasn't in Florida, he could save her. He knew it wouldn't be right, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself, if he had the opportunity.

 "I'll be seeing you at dinner in the Captain's mess though?" he asked, just inside the door. "You haven't eaten much since…"

"I will continue to take my meals in my quarters," she replied brusquely, breaking his gaze to hide the quick stab of pain she felt when she thought about sharing a meal with Trip in a room that still held so many memories of the captain.

As she had hoped, he missed the emotional overtones in her response completely. i_"__Shot down,"/i_ he thought wryly, seeing it only as a rejection. i_"I want to see if I really do have feelings for her, but if she never lets me spend any time with her, I don't see how I can do that,"_ /ihe groused mentally.

"All right," he said aloud.. "But come back someday, okay? I miss you," he told her with an engaging smile before leaving the room.

T'Pol was still staring at the door when a voice behind her said, "It won't be necessary to send Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed to the surface."

There are people whose voices we remember, sometimes because they are dear to us, and sometimes because they are always bringing bad news. Unfortunately, this was one of  the latter. "Crewman Daniels," T'Pol said evenly as she turned to face him. "Am I to assume this means we have indeed traveled back in time?"

"To 1944, shortly after D-Day," Daniels confirmed, looking uncomfortable as usual in his black rubber suit.

"What part did you take in getting us here?" she asked, coming straight to the point.

"Well… to be honest, you're here because I made a mistake," he admitted, shifting nervously under the Vulcan's gaze.

"That does not surprise me," she informed him, pinning him with a gaze. "I ask again, what have you done?"

"Archer wasn't supposed to die on the weapon, he wasn't supposed to die at all. I can't tell you much, but it's vital that he be present at an event that doesn't happen for seven more years." He got a faraway look, seeing once more the signing of the Federation charter as it had happened in his timeline. If T'Pol couldn't save Archer, none of that would happen. So many things would change, and none of them for the better. She had to get him back…

"And so you…" she prompted, snapping him out of his daydreams.

"I pulled him off the weapon at the last moment. I was just trying to save his life, but something went wrong…"

"As I said, that does not surprise me," T'Pol repeated. Nothing ever went exactly the way the time traveler thought it would.

"…and he ended up in a Nazi hospital tent in Italy," he finished in a rush, wanting to leave before T'Pol could process what he had said.

She blinked, then stiffened as she realized what he meant. "Are you implying that the captain is still alive?" she quizzed, her heart racing at the thought.

"Alive and well," Daniels confirmed, happy to be giving good news for once.

"Then why do you not simply retrieve him from wherever you… lost him," T'Pol suggested, swallowing hard around the last phrase. Captain Archer may still be alive, but he was also still in danger, apparently.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to do that," Daniels said, squirming in his skin. "You see, after my superiors learned what I did, they demoted me."

"Which was no more than you deserved," she said, her words biting. "What exactly do you propose then? I assume you do not want me to leave him here in the 20th century, if he is so important to you."

"I don't have the capability to pull him back into your rightful timeline, so you're going to have to rescue him yourself," he informed her bluntly. "It shouldn't be that difficult, I can tell you exactly where he is and…"

"Mr. Daniels," T'Pol interrupted. "You have provided ample help over the years, we could not presume to ask for anymore," she said, laying the sarcasm on thick. She had finally had enough of his constant interference into their mission, and she was upset enough to tell him so. "No, I think I will send Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed down  to discover his location. Then we will decide on a course of action from there."

Daniels' eyes grew wide, seeing that he had pushed the Vulcan to her breaking point. He was desperate to get Archer back to his own time though, so he tried to argue with her. "But…"

"Your services are no longer needed Sir," she told him curtly, returning to the bridge and leaving him staring at her in surprise.

Meanwhile

"…Er hat von gestern hier gebracht."

"Haben Sie überhaupt gesehen dieser Uniform?"

Jon winced slightly; having to translate the German he was hearing only intensified the headache he had. He'd been awake for a while now, but something had told him it was advisable to feign sleep. Now he was able to listen in on the conversation; luckily, he'd taken German in high school.

i

_"Von gestern…"/i_ he repeated to himself, searching his memory for the meaning. i_"Gestern… gestern… Yesterday! I've been here since… Yesterday?? Yesterday! The weapon! I know I set the charges, I could hear them going off behind me. And since I'm not at home, I must not have made it to the beam-out point. So what happened? Did I die, and my German teacher really was the Devil?"/i_ he wondered hazily.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he risked a quick peek at his surrounding. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn't, because the first thing he was confronted with were the unmistakable uniforms of the SS. i_"__What is happening here?"/i_ he wondered with a sense of desperation as he drifted back to sleep.

The alien smiled to himself when he saw the tension ease a little from the human's face. He had noticed the quickly concealed grimace earlier, and he knew exactly how long he had been awake. However, it suited his plans to let him have his false security, so he hadn't revealed his knowledge to those around him.

_i"It is remarkable,"_ /ihe thought to himself as he looked around at his "superior officers."i _"__Superior__,"/i _he thought with a sneer.i _"These humans were so anxious to get into space, and yet they cannot control the slightest of expressions. Are they not aware of how pain can be used against them?"/i_

From the recent wounds this man bore, he was clearly familiar with pain, and yet he had not managed to mask his reaction to it. What would have happened if someone else had noticed, someone whose only mission was to stop, at all costs, all threats to the Third Reich?

i

_"And then the others, why did they not see it? Was it not as obvious as the points on a Vulcan's ear ? They did not even notice when he opened his eyes a fraction. Transparent and oblivious, how did they ever manage their first week in space, much less three years?"/i_

Keeping quiet, he followed the other officers out of the tent, making his plans as he walked the dirt path. i_"Archer cannot be allowed to return to his own timeline, the Federation must not be formed,"_ /ihe reminded himself.i _"However, he has no way of getting out of this hospital, much less back to the 22nd century,"_ /ihe reasoned, unaware that the Enterprise was in orbit, just waiting for an opportunity to rescue her captain. i_"__Yes, I believe I can leave this war to the humans for now,"/i_ he decided, cutting off the path toward the mountains where he was to meet the transport that would take him back to his own world and time.

He was only a lieutenant. No one paid him any attention as he wandered up the path—perhaps he was simply getting a breath of fresh air. None of them knew that he was deserting, just as they didn't know he'd never really been part of the SS to begin with.

_i"Yes,"_ /ihe thought just before disappearing around the bend, i_"I will leave the humans to their own petty wars. I have followed my orders in my own war, my work here is done."/i_


	2. 2

**Chapter 2:**

A/N: There is a translation for the German phrases at the end of the chapter. They were all double checked by real German speakers, so hopefully they're more accurate than Bablefish, which gave me the word for category instead of class…

Trying to find Captain Archer had proven more difficult than they had anticipated. While Malcolm could understand why T'Pol spurned Daniels' help, he wondered if she had realized that this time, they wouldn't be able to simply scan for a human bio sign.

Instead, he and Trip had been flying low to the ground for three nights now, using a device they'd found in Daniels' quarters that detected temporal discrepancies. The theory was that the clothes he was wearing would bear a temporal signature that would stand out from its 20th century surroundings. So far, it hadn't panned out.

Glancing over at his companion, he realized that in the last three nights, they'd barely said 10 words to each other. _"Trip isn't usually so quiet,"_ he thought with a frown, wondering what was going on inside his friend's mind.

"Do you think this will work?" he asked, trying to get him to talk.

"Maybe," was the only response he got.

"Well, one thing the scans have told us is that we are in the past. At least we know that much."

"Yeah, that's just swell," Trip muttered, carefully navigating the shuttle around a series of mountain peaks.

"If Captain Archer has been sent back here with us, you'd think we would have found him by now."

"Look Mal," Trip said, "could ya just be quiet? I really don't want to talk about stupid time travel anymore."

Surprised, Malcolm looked up from the scanner for a moment. "You seemed more than eager to embrace time travel before, when you thought it meant you had married T'Pol," he pointed out mildly.

"That's just the point!" Trip burst out, ready to tell him off.

A sudden beeping from the unit in Malcolm's hands cut off his outburst. "Where's the signal coming from?" he asked, knowing the sound meant they were close.

"43 degrees, 49 minutes north; 10 degrees, 28 minutes south. It looks like it's somewhere in… Italy," Malcolm said, trying to put the coordinates together in his mind.

"All right, let's land this puppy and make sure it's him. Then we'll have to hightail it out of here, we've only got a few hours left until daylight."

Trip carefully and gently landed the shuttle in a small clearing about halfway up a mountain. Malcolm got out first, taking the scanner with him. "This way," he said, starting down the mountain.

"Does that thing tell ya what time the object is coming from?" Trip asked, wanting to know in advance if it was his captain they had found.

"Not from this far out apparently," Malcolm replied. "But it will eventually, when we're closer. Right now I just now that whatever we've found, it's from the future."

"This future anyway," Trip muttered, climbing over a rotten log that lay directly in their path.

"Yes Commander, now may I recommend we stay silent until we are safely out of the area?" Malcolm suggested tensely, shifting the scanner into one hand and drawing his phase pistol. "I can't imagine that a Nazi installation would be completely without guards."

Trip glanced at him, noticing the way he held the phase pistol, as if he was expecting a Nazi to show up just around the corner. Zipping his lips, he too drew his weapon, and the two men proceeded down the mountainside.

Five minutes later, they were on the outskirts of a hospital camp. Though there were guards, they were minimal, for they were in Nazi occupied territory. Working their way around, they got as close to the hospital tent as they could, noticing that it was more heavily guarded than the rest of the area. Glancing at the scanner one last time, Malcolm nodded and gestured to Trip, indicating that they had what they needed.

Turning around, they both moved back up the mountain, not speaking until they were in the shuttle once more. "You're sure it's the cap'n?" Trip asked then, needing to hear it out loud.

"The scanner was clearly reading a signature from the mid 22nd century. Either Daniels sent two people back in time, or we've found Captain Archer," Malcolm replied.

Trip powered up the engines, not speaking again until they were in the air. In the faint moon glow, they could see the lights from the camp. "I hate just leaving him there," he said then. "Why can't we just fly over the camp, shoot the Nazis, and take Cap'n Archer with us now?" he whined.

"We can't do that Trip, we'd be contaminating our culture."

"Not if we killed them all," Trip suggested, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Trip!"

"What? They're Nazis, you expect me to have some great sympathy for them? Besides, we don't know what they've done to him."

"Commander, I suggest you take us home directly, before someone becomes aware of an unusual aircraft hovering over their camp, or before T'Pol starts wondering where we are."

"Yes sir!" Trip said sarcastically, saluting before starting back for home.

Completely flabbergasted by his friend's attitude, Malcolm sat still in his seat, almost afraid to do anything. Finally, a few minutes before they reached Enterprise, he ventured forth with an apology. "I am sorry Commander," he said, truly penitent. "I didn't mean to sound like I was giving you an order."

Trip sighed, glancing back at him and then up at the ship. "Ya didn't Mal," he admitted heavily. "I shouldn't have yelled at ya, and I'm sorry. I just hate this so much…I  just want to get home, ya know?" he commented, maneuvering the shuttle into the bay.

"I do," Malcolm agreed, knowing that what he really wanted was to know if their mission had truly been successful. He hadn't seen the weapon destroyed with his own eyes, nor had he seen an intact Earth—not in their timeline anyway. Until he saw those things, he would be itching to get home.

"If this all works out," he said, climbing out of the shuttle, "if we manage to save Captain Archer, then we should be able to get back to where we belong," he said, trying to cheer Trip up.

"Somehow, after the last year, I'm not holdin' my breath," Trip muttered, walking over to the comm unit and punching the button. "Trip to T'Pol."

"Go ahead Commander," she allowed.

"We found him."

"Excellent. Meet me in the command center in ten minutes. T'Pol out."

"Well, you heard the lady," Trip said, gesturing toward the door. "We've got a report to give."

Shaking his head, Malcolm followed him down the corridor. _"If his attitude doesn't change, he's going to be hurting,"_ he realized, knowing that the bitterness building up inside of him would start gnawing at him, not letting him go until he let it go.

"You are sure you found him?" T'Pol asked the instant they set foot in the room, her voice and facial expression anxious.

"We're sure," Trip assured her, looking at her strangely. "Unless there are two men from the 22nd century being held in Nazi hospital camps, it's him."

"How do you propose we get him back?" she asked Malcolm.

"The camp wasn't guarded very heavily. If I could take one of the Rangers with me, we could infiltrate the camp dressed as soldiers just long enough to sneak him out. It shouldn't be that difficult."

"It would have to be someone who speaks German, or there's no way you'd get past anyone—even if you had the black armband and everything," Trip pointed out.

"I'll take someone with German proficiency," Malcolm promised. "To make it even safer, I'll take a blue-eyed blond. There were dark Germans in the army, but I know I'll stand out. It would be best if I was with someone who looked like the poster child for the Aryan race."

"Agreed," T'Pol said, nodding curtly. "Do it tonight Lieutenant, bring him home."

"Yes ma'am," the two men said in unison, recognizing the dismissal they'd just been given.

As they stepped out into the corridor, they looked at each other, confusion in their eyes. "Did she seem a little…"

"Emotional?" Trip supplied when Malcolm didn't finish.

"Yes."

"Yeah, I'd say so. But ya know, she and the cap'n got to be real good friends after a while, I bet she's missing him just as much as we are."

"True," Malcolm allowed, cocking his head to one side as he considered. "Still, I didn't expect her to be so open with her feelings."

"Yeah well, I've discovered you never know exactly what to expect from T'Pol," Trip said ironically as they moved toward the lift.

"I'm actually going to go find Joe Layne," Malcolm said when Trip got in and gave him an expectant look. "I'll see you later tonight, hopefully with the captain."

"Good luck."

"Thanks," he said, walking away in the direction of the Rangers' training area.

McKenzie walked over to greet him when he walked in. "Is there something I can do for you Lieutenant?" she asked.

"I'd like to borrow one of your people for a mission tonight, if I may," Malcolm replied formally.

"What kind of mission?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Saving the captain," he told her curtly.

"You found him?"

"You knew I was looking?"

She smirked, saying, "You'll find there's a lot I know."

"While I'm sure that's true, it still doesn't answer my original question. May I take Sergeant Layne with me tonight?"

"It's fine by me," she said with a shrug. "You'll have to ask him yourself though."

"I can do that," he said stiffly, nodding for her to call Sergeant Layne over.

"Joe, Lieutenant Reed has a proposal for you," she told him, walking away.

"Yes sir?" Joe asked politely, following the senior officer to a corner of the large room.

"T'Pol is sending me down to retrieve the captain tonight," Malcolm told the younger man. "I was thinking that your language abilities would be an asset, if we happen to be spotted."

"I'd be honored to help rescue the captain, but…" Joe hesitated, not sure if he should voice his concern. "What about you sir?" he asked finally, in the end deciding that having all the necessary facts was more important than protocol.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking," Malcolm said slowly.

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

"Gut genut, um zurecht zu kommen," Malcolm replied modestly.

Joe's mouth dropped slightly in surprise when he heard the flawless, unaccented German come from the British officer. "Wie haben sie das gelernt?" he asked, curious.

Malcolm smirked a little, enjoying the feeling of being able to impress one of the two resident language experts. "Ich habe es studiert."

"Warum?" Joe asked, knowing there had to be more to the story.

"Es gab ein hübsches Mädchen in der deutschen Klasse," Malcolm admitted.

"You took a language just to get a girl's attention?" Joe asked, stifling a laugh.

"You can't be saying you never took any classes to spend time with a girl," Malcolm protested.

"Not a language," Joe said. "I didn't need extra incentive to take those classes. Math and science though, yeah I did."

Malcolm shrugged, saying, "Yes well I was just fine in the sciences, but I hated linguistics. All my favorite arts classes involved pretty girls."

"So?" Joe asked expectantly.

"So what?"

"So what happened with the girl?"

The armory officer grimaced, remembering the end of that part of the story. "She started dating my best friend at semester."

"Then how did you become fluent? You must have stayed with the classes after she rejected you, why?"

Malcolm shrugged slightly. He'd never really thought about it before. "I suppose I'd discovered I liked it," he replied.

"Sollen wir den Kapitän retten?" Joe asked, all his concerns satisfied.

"Ich glaube, das ist eine gute Idee," Malcolm replied. "I'll see you at 19:00 in shuttle bay 2."

"I'll be ready sir," Joe promised, giving a quick salute and returning to his training.

It was dark when Malcolm landed the shuttle on the same hillside he and Trip had started from before. Without a word, he and Joe climbed out of the craft and walked silently toward the camp, tugging slightly at the uncomfortable uniforms as they moved. Compared to the ease of movement Starfleet jumpsuits allowed, the SS uniforms were extremely restricting.

They provided the necessary cover needed to get close to the camp though. The guards they had met and the few soldiers who were still up simply nodded to them, accepting them as their own and with minimal effort, they were soon outside the tent.

Here, they took a deep breath. Malcolm drew his Luger while Joe pulled out his Mauser, both knowing the easy part was over. Getting in might not have been difficult, but neither of them were naïve enough to believe that they would be able to just walk in, pick up the captain, and walk out. Something more was needed.

Giving Joe a quick nod, Malcolm walked along the backside of the tent, the side the faced the woods. He waited until he could hear Joe talking to the nurse just inside the door before he rolled under the wall and pulled himself up inside.

"Entschuldigen," Joe said politely. "Ich glaube, es gibt einige Männer, die Hilfe brauchen."

He managed to affect just enough concern to attract the attention of the nurse and the doctor who had been talking to her. "Was ist los?" the man asked.

"Ich bin nicht, sie bin Beschweren der Magenprobleme sicher," Joe said with a shrug. "Vielleicht war es das Abendessen?" he suggested.

"Kann schon sein, aber ich sollte es trotzdem überprüfen," the doctor decided, grabbing his bag and heading toward the living quarters.

Shaking his head, Malcolm bit back a grin at the other man's sense of humor, present even in the middle of a operation. _"I wonder if we could convince him to stay after we get back to our time," _he mused, walking past two long rows of beds and piles of blood soaked linens before finally moving around the curtain into the rear of the tent.

Then all thoughts of anything but getting the captain home disappeared. There he was, lying on a cot, covered in blood. Moving quickly, Malcolm reached him in two steps. He grabbed a towel from the table next to him and gently wiped away some of the blood, trying to see how bad the injuries truly were. Breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that most of them were merely superficial cuts, he picked his captain up and quietly returned to his insertion point, making sure he wasn't noticed.

When he got to the wall, he lowered the other man to the floor, slapping a hand over his mouth when he let out a low groan. "Captain," he whispered urgently when he saw his eyes open slightly. "Captain, do you recognize me?"

Some of the tension eased from his body when Jon nodded slowly, his eyes widening. "Good. Sergeant Layne and I are here to rescue you, but I need you to roll out of this tent, under the wall here. Can you do that?" he asked.

Jon nodded again, laying on his back on the cold ground and rolling slightly, stifling the moans from the pain that lanced up his side at the action.

When Malcolm joined him on the other side, he found Joe picking the captain up in a fireman's hold and starting up the hillside at a brisk pace. "It won't take them long to discover that no one is really sick sir," he said in a low voice. "I recommend we get out of here as quickly as possible."

"Agreed," Malcolm said tersely, moving to walk in front of his partner so he could watch for any guards.

The walk back to the shuttle took more time than it had to get down to the camp, since they were walking uphill with a load to carry. The more time went by, the more nervous Malcolm got about reaching safety before they were caught.

They were approximately three fourths of the way there when they heard faint shouts behind them. Joe hurried on toward the shuttle while Malcolm paused momentarily, straining his ears to catch what they were saying.

"Der Gefangene… entgangen… Suchen Sie…" _Prisoner… escaped… search... _Cursing silently, he quickly caught up with Joe and passed him, moving straight for the shuttle. When Joe got there a few minutes later with the captain, the engines were on and ready to go, and just in time. No sooner had they cleared the trees than three guards burst into the clearing where they had just been, pistols drawn and ready. They fired a few ineffectual shots before realizing the bullets were simply pinging off the hull

"Are we ready to go home?" Malcolm asked tightly, watching as they holstered their weapons and ran back toward the camp, undoubtedly going for reinforcements, perhaps in the Luftwaffe.

"Don't worry about them sir," Joe told him, understanding that Malcolm was more concerned about contamination than any danger World War II era weapons could do to the shuttle. "No one will believe them, they'll think it's just an excuse for losing their quarry."

"I hope so," Malcolm muttered, heading for the atmosphere.

"So, how long do you think he's been down there?" Joe asked, changing the subject.

"We've been here for a week, and he went missing a day prior to that. Assuming everything is equal, I'd guess eight days."

"That explains why some of these cuts are starting to heal," Joe observed.

"Yes, he doesn't look as bad as I expected him to," Malcolm agreed. "I do want Phlox to take a look at that slice in his stomach though."

"Absolutely… but I'm just glad we got him back. I'm ready to go home."

T'Pol was surprised that she had the observation lounge to herself. She didn't know that the few crewmembers who had considered entering had turned around silently when they'd seen her pacing, staring out the windows, waiting for the shuttle to get back, or that they'd let everyone else know to leave her alone. All she knew was that there was a hole in her stomach that did not seem to want to go away.

The sensation she had now was different from how she had felt when she'd learned of the captain's death. Then she had been empty, unable to feel anything. Now she felt like her stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.

There was no way she'd be getting any sleep, and she knew it. Right now, Lieutenant Reed and Sergeant Layne were on their way to Earth, hopefully to rescue the captain. If they did not succeed…

Forcefully shoving that thought aside, T'Pol grabbed the items she needed to return and left the lounge for the captain's quarters. Her intent was to put them back in their rightful place, but no sooner had she entered the cabin than the comm sounded. "Reed to T'Pol."

"Go ahead Lieutenant," she said, her heart beating rapidly. Surely they couldn't be back already, not with the captain… something must have happened.

"We've got him Ma'am," he told her, the note of victory clear in his voice. "We'll be in shuttle bay 2 in about 10 minutes, if you'd care to meet us. You might want to have Dr. Phlox there too, he looks pretty badly beaten."

"Very well Lieutenant… good job," she said, her voice cracking a little at the end.

"T'Pol to Dr. Phlox."

"Go ahead T'Pol," Phlox said.

"Doctor, Lieutenant Reed and Sergeant Layne are on their way back with the captain. Lieutenant Reed suggested we meet them in the shuttle bay, apparently the captain has sustained several injuries."

"I'll be there when he lands Sub-commander, but may I suggest that you wait for a half hour or so and join us in Sickbay? If the captain is in bad shape, you won't want to see him like that."

Her first instinct was to protest—she wanted to see him, now! Restraining herself, she instead said, "If you feel it would be best, I will see you in Sickbay."

"Thank you T'Pol," Phlox said, ending the connection and leaving for the shuttle bay.

T'Pol looked around the room she was in, not quite believing that its occupant was actually coming home. _"Home… Enterprise is his home, and mine,"_ she realized. Here they all lived and worked, and here they had friends who would take care of them when they needed it.

Her task forgotten, she set the book down on the table by the door, exiting the room swiftly, heading for Sickbay. _"It's over, it's actually over,"_ she told herself, not quite able to believe it.__

She stopped just inside the door to Sickbay, putting her hand up on the frame. This man had been dead to her for over a week, and now she was staring at his face, unable to tear her eyes from him. Somewhere in her mind, she knew her fear that he would disappear if she let him out of her sight was irrational, but she could not help it.

Taking in her emotional state, he smiled gently and said, "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, T'Pol."

"That is apparent sir," she told him, quickly retreating to her dry Vulcan wit.

He chuckled, but underneath the humor lay a deep concern for her. The fact that he had been able to see her thoughts and feelings flashing across her face worried him; it wasn't like T'Pol to be so… vulnerable. He started to open his mouth to question her, but the presence of others precluded it. While he wanted answers, he didn't want to embarrass her by drawing attention to her behavior.

"Captain, I believe you've had quite enough action for one day," Phlox admonished, cutting off anything he might have said. "I'll have to insist all your visitors leave now so you can get some rest."

"When will he be able to take command, Doctor?" T'Pol asked, unwilling to leave just yet.

"Oh, he should be able to do light duties tomorrow. 20th century Earth medicine was primitive, but most of the cuts and abrasions on his body healed quite nicely," Phlox replied. "The wound in his side will take a few weeks to heal though, so he will have to keep from over-exerting himself, as I'm also sure he's quite exhausted from his little adventure."

"I'm not tired," Jon protested, stifling a yawn.

"And my third wife's second husband doesn't run the local bakery," Phlox retorted. "Now really Captain, I must insist that you get some sleep! The crew are all ecstatic to have you back, but you won't do us any good if you end up here with me for the next month. That's what will happen if you refuse to take it easy for a week or so," he said, injecting a mild sedative in the side of his neck.

T'Pol watched as he fell asleep with Porthos curled up by his side. "His dog seems to be happy to have him home," she observed.

"Ah yes, Porthos jumped up there as soon as Lieutenant Reed laid the captain down, and I didn't have the heart to push him off."

"You are sure he will be all right?"

"Absolutely," he assured her. "A bit tired and sore for a few weeks, but then he'll be back to normal."

"Thank you Doctor," she said, finally turning to leave.

"No, thank you," he said, catching her at the door. "If you hadn't had the courage to go after him, we never would have known he was anywhere to be found."

"I was merely doing my duty as the ship's first officer," she informed him. "As our captain, he was ours… ours to fight for."

Phlox watched, surprised, as she left the room after saying those words. What she'd said was true; a captain belonged to his ship and to his crew, especially after a mission such as the one they had just completed. More than most, this crew was bound to each other by common experiences that no one else would ever be able to fully understand.

No, it wasn't the words that had surprised him, it had been her tone. _"She was… emotional, but not,"_ he thought. _"That slight tremble which has been in her voice for the last month was gone, but the emotions that used to cause it were still there in her eyes. Perhaps she is gaining control of her feelings more quickly than I had anticipated."_

For her sake, he hoped it was true. The possibility of never again being the controlled Vulcan had disturbed her greatly, perhaps things would turn out to her advantage after all.

_Well enough to get by_

_How did you become fluent_

_The usual way, I took classes_

_There was a pretty girl in the German class._

_Why?_

_Shall we rescue the captain?_

_I believe that's a good idea._

_Excuse me_

_I think there are some people who need your help_

_What's wrong?_

_I am not sure, they are complaining of stomach problems._

_Perhaps it was dinner tonight?_

_Perhaps, but I should go check to be sure._


	3. 3

**Chapter 3:**

When Jon rolled over the next morning on the bio bed and opened his eyes, he expected to see the dirty surroundings he'd become accustomed to. _"It had to be a dream,"_ he told himself as he made his way to wakefulness. _'There's no way __Enterprise__ could have rescued me."_

Convinced that there was nothing worth waking up to, he started to curl up his legs and go back to sleep, but he met a small, soft barrier to his intended actions. Opening one eye slightly, he saw Porthos, curled up on his legs. "Porthos?" he mumbled, opening both eyes.

The dog rose quickly and with one jump, landed on his master's chest, licking his face enthusiastically. "Hey, I missed you too boy," Jon said, patting the dog's head and looking around.

It was sickbay—his sickbay. He was home, it hadn't just been a dream. "Well hello Captain!" Phlox said cheerfully, bustling around the curtain to greet him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Taking a moment to examine himself, he realized that most of the aches and pains were gone. Thanking God for 22nd century pain medication, he said, "I feel fine, mostly. My side…"

"Yes, that wound will bother you a little for some time," Phlox agreed, lifting his shirt to check on it. "But outside of that…?"

"I feel fine," Jon reiterated, feeling a sudden desire to be on the bridge.

"Yes Captain," Phlox said dryly, seeing the question in his eyes, "you may return to work today. I see no reason to hold you here, as long as," he added, watching Jon's eyes light up. "As long as you promise to take it easy!"

He started to laugh, but found that pulled at his side a little. "Doc, I don't think I'll be running any marathons with this," he said, gesturing down.

"Good. As long as you realize that, I believe you're free to go, after you eat your breakfast," Phlox told him as the doors opened, revealing a steward carrying a tray.

Jon was surprised and slightly embarrassed when he was greeted with a standing ovation as he walked onto the bridge. "What's this about?" he questioned gruffly.

"Captain, we wanted you to know how much we missed you this last week," Hoshi explained.

"Yeah, things just weren't the same around here without you," Travis chimed in. "Not that you didn't do a great job Sub-commander," he added hastily. "It's just that the captain…"

"He is your captain, and that is special. I understand Ensign," T'Pol said smoothly.

"Does the crew know I'm alive?" Jon asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't made any announcements.

"Yes Captain," T'Pol replied. "I made sure they were all notified this morning when they reached their duty stations, and those who have the day off or who have beta shift have been informed through other means."

"Well then, let's see what we can do about getting this ship back to the 22nd century where it belongs," Jon suggested.

"I have some data for you to review on that issue," T'Pol said. "Perhaps we could go over it in your ready room."

"Lead the way," he said agreeably, following her off the bridge.

Somehow, neither of them were surprised to see Daniels waiting for them, a broad smile in place. "Welcome home, Captain," he said happily, holding his hand out for Jon to shake.

Instead, Jon leaned against his desk, watching the other man's smile dim slightly as his gesture went unrecognized. _"Good,"_ he thought bitterly. _"It's about time he feels uncomfortable with what he does."_

After taking a moment to watch him squirm, he said, "So, I hear I have you to thank for my recent cultural experience," lifting one brow in a sardonic query.

"I'm sorry Captain, I was just trying to save my timeline," Daniels said, suddenly feeling trapped in the usually spacious ready room. "If you're not there…"

"I know, if I'm not there, the Federation won't begin and life as you know it will cease to exist," Jon said, cutting him off. He was sick to death of Daniels' interference in his mission, and he wasn't going to sit here and listen to him justify it one more time. "Well, if you didn't notice Daniels," he continued, losing what little calm he possessed, "life as I know it almost ceased to exist. I'd appreciate it if you would stay out of my life. Find someone else to harass with your time travel mumbo-jumbo, I've had it."

By the end of the speech, his face was red and he was yelling. He'd been waiting a long time to say all that, and after his latest experience with Daniel's particular brand of "help" it was time to let it all out.

"Captain, calm down," T'Pol cautioned.

"Calm down?" he hollered. "T'Pol, thanks to him, I just spent the last week in a hospital. On a war front. In the 20th century! You can't seriously be saying you think he did the right thing?"

"No, I understand your frustrations and I agree with them. In fact, I believe I told Mr. Daniels something very similar when we spoke earlier, did I not?" she asked, giving him a penetrating stare.

"Yes, you did," he answered with a grimace.

"Then I feel I must ask why you are here again."

"Can I at least send you back to your own time?" Daniels asked petulantly, upset that he was being rebuffed. His wounded pride hurt all the more because he knew he deserved the set down.

"I was under the impression that your "magical time traveling abilities" had been stripped from you," he said with a sneer, still upset at the way this man constantly played god in his life.

"Well… yes," Daniels hedged. "But my superiors are as eager to have you back where you belong as I am, and they have given me express permission to return you to the 22nd century, as long as I promise not to do anything else."

Jon shook his head, almost amused that the man had the audacity to ask. On the other hand… "I might regret this, but I can't see that I have any choice… please, send us back to the 22nd century. With no mess-ups this time, if you will," he muttered.

"Your sarcasm is not necessary Captain," Daniels told him as he disappeared.

Almost as soon as he'd left, the comm in the ready room beeped. "Captain?" Hoshi said.

"Go ahead Hoshi," he replied, hoping it had worked this time.

"All the satellites just reappeared Sir, and Star Fleet is hailing us." The excitement in her voice was palpable. They were home!

"Put it onscreen as soon as I get out on the bridge," Jon said, already starting for the door.

"Hello Jon, Enterprise… That was a job well done," Admiral Forrest said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Excuse me sir?" Jon asked, still feeling slightly disoriented from his time in the 20th century.

"The weapon! You must have managed to stop the Xindi after all Jon, I knew you could do it."

_"Ah, of course… Daniels must have returned us to directly after the weapon blew up. I wonder how he got us all here and all the Xindi back where they belong… I wonder if the Xindi still think I'm dead, and if the spheres are still destroyed."_

"Actually sir, the Xindi didn't turn out to be the true enemy," Jon corrected, focusing on the Admiral, who was eager for a full account of their experiences. "If you'd like, my command crew and I can come down and fill you in on all the details."

"Yes, of course! We're looking forward to hearing about your adventures in the Delphic Expanse too. Actually, once you dock the ship, the whole crew has a month of leave. You all deserve a break, and I'm sure Enterprise could use some work."

Jon grimaced, running over the numerous damage reports he'd received in the last six months. "She could sir, and so do we. Thank you, we'll be in your office first thing in the morning to report," Jon said.

The older man's grin didn't slip so much as one notch when Jon confirmed the state of the pride of Starfleet. After all, what was one ship compared to an entire planet? "We'll be looking forward to it. Forrest out."

"Well gang," Jon said, turning to the bridge crew, "you heard the Admiral. Travis, get us to space dock so we can start our vacation."

"Yes sir!" Travis said enthusiastically. "I'll have us there in about 15 minutes sir," he announced.

"Wonderful. Hoshi, put me on a ship wide channel."

"Aye sir," she said, punching a few keys and then nodding at him.

Jon sat in his chair and hit the comm button. "Enterprise, this is Captain Archer. If you haven't heard yet, I am alive and well and glad to be back. You'll be glad to know that we're back in the 22nd century. I just talked to Admiral Forrest, and apparently our mission was a success. In fact, he was so impressed with our work that he's giving us a month, which is of course about how long it will take the crew at Jupiter Station to fix the ship. As soon as we dock and your duties are turned over, you are all free to go. I'll see you back here in one month. Archer out."

The instant the crew heard the familiar clang of the docking clamp, a party-like atmosphere descended on the entire ship. Unneeded terminals were shut down and crewmembers shuttled down to earth in droves. Jon had remained aboard until the end, with the rest of the bridge crew, turning the ship's systems over to the station.

Everything was complete now though, and they were ready to go. Trip and Malcolm had left a few minutes ago to pack for their vacation, and Jon was just getting ready to do the same.

"Captain, could I see you in your ready room?" Hoshi requested, catching him just before he could leave the bridge.

"Of course Hoshi," he replied solicitously, even though he wanted nothing more than to return to his quarters and pack his sea bag. He wondered briefly why they still called it a sea bag, when Starfleet had nothing to do with the ocean, but the thought left his mind as quickly as it had entered. The sooner he could answer whatever question Hoshi had, the sooner he could pack, and the sooner he was packed, the sooner he could leave.

"What did you need?" he asked as soon as the door was shut, not wanting to waste any time with small talk.

She hesitated for a moment, not quite as eager to have this conversation as he was. Glancing down at the floor, she said quietly, "I'm not sure I'll be coming back at the end of the month."

"What was that?" he asked, sure he'd heard wrong.

"I said, I'm considering resigning my commission in Starfleet," she answered, looking him square in the face this time.

"What? Why? You're the best comm officer any captain could ask for."

"Any captain who wouldn't mind having his mission compromised by a foolish girl," she countered, her eyes blazing now.

"Hoshi. Are you still beating yourself up for giving them the third launch code?" he asked gently.

"I should have been able to fight more, to fight harder," she insisted, avoiding his gaze once again. "If I was meant for this life, I would have been able to. Instead, I jeopardized everything we'd all worked so hard for. It was my fault…"

"And if you hadn't been there once, we never would have been able to shut down the weapon in the end," he interrupted, reaching out and forcing her to look at him. "If you hadn't come back to us in one piece and able to decode Degra's schematics and instructions, we never would have beaten them, and we wouldn't have a home to go back to right now," he told her firmly, watching closely to see if she believed him.

For the first time since she was kidnapped, Hoshi believed again that she was a Starfleet officer. There would still be times that being in space would make her feel uncomfortable, but it was exhilarating at times as well. "I could teach exo-linguistics at the new academy," she offered weakly, hoping he would shoot the idea down.

"Not without a recommendation from your captain," he told her smugly.

"You don't think I could teach?" she asked, her shoulders drooping.

"Oh, I think you could do it… just not if it means I can't have you on my ship." He watched in satisfaction as the meaning of his words sunk in. "You are the best Starfleet has to offer, Hoshi Sato, and I need the best. I'm not letting you run away with your tail between your legs just because you think you could have fought off an alien parasite against all odds. Heck, I'm even putting in a requisition for seatbelts on the bridge! Now, are you ready for some cool weather?"

"Cool weather?" she asked, the quick change in subject confusing her.

"I promised you Canada or Norway, didn't I? No tropical bugs, no reptiles… I've already made arrangements with a shuttle service, there will be someone ready to take you wherever you want to go as soon as we get to the surface."

"Thank you sir," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I've heard Canada is lovely at this time of year."

"Just let them know where to take you and when to pick you up. I expect to see you in a month," he said, opening the door and heading for the lift.

"Aye sir, one month," she told him just before the door shut. His last sight of her was of her securing her station, a smile firmly in place.

The excitement around him as he walked back to his cabin was palpable, and he couldn't help but share it. A month vacation! It had been years since he'd had anything more than a long weekend! "It'll be good to get back to the apartment for a while, eh boy?" Jon said, reaching for his duffle bag. "We can relax, go to the beach, maybe take a weekend in the mountains and just enjoy the cool breeze."

He stopped for a moment, his eyes drifting shut as he imagined what it would be like to spend a whole month doing nothing but what he wanted to. Remembering he had a shuttle to catch, he shook himself out of his reverie and went back to packing. "Shirts, shorts, socks… what else should I take Porthos?" he asked, leaning over to scratch the dog's head. As he did so, he caught sight of the bookshelf against his wall. "Ah, I'll finally have time to get some reading done!" he realized.

The antique smell of the paper was a comfort to him, and it would be wonderfully relaxing while on vacation. Bending down in front of the shelves, he ran his finger along the old spines, waiting for a title to jump out at him. "Hmm… Candide, a whole bunch by Louis L'amour… wait a minute, where did The Three Musketeers go?" he wondered, seeing a hole where it should have been.

Looking around the room, he quickly spotted it on the small table he had positioned just inside his door. "That's not where I left you," he mused, tossing it in his bag and wondering how it had gotten there. Shrugging it off as unimportant, he grabbed Porthos' leash and secured it to the beagle's collar. Picking up his bag, he took one last look to make sure hadn't missed anything before leaving the room, hurrying toward the station's shuttle hangar where a transport was waiting to take him and the remaining crew down to Earth.

"You ready for this Cap'n?" Trip asked enthusiastically as they boarded the shuttle together. "A whole month off, sleeping in, watching movies… no work…"

"You bet I am Trip. But don't forget we have to survive explaining what actually happened to Admiral Forrest," he reminded him.

"You had to go and rain on my parade, didn't ya?" Trip groused. "Have ya figured out what yer gonna tell him?" he questioned.

"Well, I think I'll start by pointing out that no matter _how_ it happened, that's still there," Jon said, gesturing out the window at the rapidly growing vision of Earth.

"Good idea," Trip agreed. "He can't really argue with that, can he?"

"No, the Admiral is a lot like the Aquatics," Jon said and chuckled. "He's greatly influenced by visual evidence."

The entire exchange had been witnessed by several lower level crewmembers, and they couldn't help but laugh at their captain's observation. Looking around at them, Jon asked, "So, how many of you are planning to be back with us when we take off again in a month?"

Most raised their hands, but Crewman Mike Kelly shook his head. "My fiancée has been waiting on me for two years sir," he said. "I just wanted a little adventure, and then after the attack… well, I couldn't leave, and she understood that. I think I'm ready for a normal life now though," he concluded.

"Normal? What's that?" one of the others retorted, starting another round of laughter.

Jon half-listened to the talking and laughter going on around him, but he couldn't stop looking at the view he was seeing. They'd just come around on the day side of Earth, and the remnants of the weapon were clearly visible here, along with Yosemite station. When he saw the pieces of machine against the blue backdrop of his home, the enormity of what almost happened hit him.

_"We were almost left with a completely different setting,"_ he realized, shuddering slightly. _"How close did we really come to having pieces of Earth scattered across the sky, with the still fully functioning weapon clearly visible in the midst?"_

Images of the battle came to him, starting with Shran showing up. "You're not using your head, Pink Skin!" He had to smile a little at the memories, thinking about how important that alliance had turned out to be in this mission.

The one thing Daniels had said about the Federation that he struggled to believe was that both Andorians and Vulcans would agree to belong to the same body. But perhaps, if Earth could act as a mediator between the two peoples, it might work.

"Hey Cap'n, whatcha thinkin'?" Trip asked, poking him in the side.

"Hmm?" Jon asked, switching his gaze from the view he saw to the people sitting in the shuttle with him.

"Ah-hah! I told ya guys, he's thinking 'bout work!" Trip said jubilantly. "No more of that now Cap'n, ya hear me? You're on vacation for a month, we all are. Stop thinkin' like a starship captain and start thinkin' like… like a man on vacation!" he ordered.

"Yes sir!" Jon mocked. "But don't forget, you and I aren't on vacation until Admiral Forrest releases us tomorrow," he reminded his friend, watching again as the shuttle crossed the atmospheric barrier and descended quickly toward the surface.

"There ya go again, rainin' on my parade," Trip said with a groan. "Ya had to volunteer all three of us for this little meeting, didn't ya?" he accused half-heartedly.

"Trip, you're third in command. Forrest would have asked for you even if I hadn't mentioned you," Jon reminded him in amusement.

"Yeah, I know," Trip muttered, gathering his things as they touched down. "I just wish, just this once, that I didn't have to do some debriefing before I was free."

"I know exactly what you mean," Jon said whole-heartedly. "So let's make our story as abbreviated as possible and get on with the business of leaving business behind, shall we?" he suggested, stepping out into the sunshine and stretching luxuriously.

"Sounds good," Trip agreed. "So I'll see you tomorrow," he said, moving in the direction of Starfleet and the accommodations he knew would be waiting for him.

Jon meanwhile took Porthos' leash in hand and started walking the few blocks towards his apartment. They'd only gone a short distance when the small dog perked up, catching the familiar scent of the ocean combined with hotdog vendors.

"You know where we are, don't you boy?" Jon said, watching the dog's tail move faster and faster. "Come on Porthos," he said with a laugh, dragging the dog past a vendor and to the apartment door. "We can go out for food later, first I want to put some things away."

The next morning, he was standing in Admiral Forrest's office with Trip and T'Pol, shifting uncomfortably as he delivered the last of the report. "So the Xindi weren't actually behind the attempt to destroy Earth at all?" Forrest asked dubiously.

"No sir, the Sphere Builders wanted us destroyed so we wouldn't be able to stop them from transforming the galaxy," Jon said, wanting desperately for him to understand and believe. He was ready to begin building toward the Federation now, but without Starfleet's approval, it would never happen.

"Does this plot ever end?" the admiral questioned, sitting down heavily in his chair. It was hard for him to accept what he was being told. Just six months ago, Jon had been in his office, insisting that an unknown race called the Xindi had decided to destroy Earth because of things they'd learned would happen in the future. Now he was saying that not only was their information false, but it wasn't the Xindi who wanted Earth gone at all. Sometimes the stories Enterprise came back with were almost too much to believe.

"As far as we know, that's the extent of it. We still don't know some particulars, such as who the Suliban work for and why he chose to tell us about the Xindi, but the plot itself started with the Sphere Builders. They needed us out of the way, so they manipulated the Xindi."

"And how can we be sure they won't do the same thing again?" Forrest questioned intently, grabbing onto the one piece of information he could fully grasp. "What if they return to the Xindi and continue to tell them they've been lied to? Who will the Xindi trust?"

"That all depends on which of the Xindi races they talk to Admiral," Trip answered. "Most of 'em believe us, I think even the insectoids came around in the end. But the reptilians…"

"They could be a problem," Jon concurred. "However, I think we need to trust the council will be able to control them. At the moment, they have no power, few ships, and no weapon. It was the humanoids who designed the weapon, so the reptilians don't even have the technology to manufacture a replica."

"Is there anything else you'd like to include in your report?" Forrest asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked at each officer directly.

The three officers glanced at each other, wondering if they should share their most recent adventure. With a silent exchange, they agreed that he would find out eventually, so they ought to tell him themselves.

"Admiral," T'Pol began, "there is one other thing that happened."

"Go on Sub-commander," he said, waving his hand, resigning himself to yet another installment of Ripleys Believe it—or Not; Enterprise Style.

"When he destroyed the weapon, Captain Archer was unable to escape before it blew up."

"But he's standing in front of me," the other man objected.

"Admiral, I didn't escape, at least not in the traditional sense. Instead, I was pulled into the past… to World War 2."

"World War 2? Jon, this is too much. You can't expect me to believe this," Forrest protested.

"I wouldn't sir, but you are free to listen to the officers' logs from the time I was missing. They'll tell the story more clearly than we can."

"And what happened then?"

"When we learned of the captain's death," T'Pol said, taking up the story again, "we continued with our original plans. We returned to Earth, intending to inform you of our success both against the weapon and with the spheres."

"But no one answered our hails," Trip interrupted.

"You didn't contact me, I contacted you," Forrest argued.

"That is because we were no longer in this century either," T'Pol explained. "In running scans of the system, we realized all the orbital stations were gone. We were also unable to contact the Lunar One colony.

"With some… help from a friend, we learned what had happened. We managed to locate Captain Archer, who was missing on the war front."

"And what happened then?" he asked, too dazed by the story he was hearing to object any further.

"That was actually pretty simple sir," Trip said. "We got him out of the Nazi hospital camp and back aboard ship, and then our time traveling buddy got us all back here. The next thing we knew, you were on the horn congratulating us."

"Jon?" Forrest asked. "Do you have anything to add to this?"

It took Jon a moment to realize the admiral was waiting for him to speak. He hadn't had a chance to hear from the crew what they had done during the time he'd been gone, and amazed at the story he'd just heard, and more than a little impressed that T'Pol had managed to hold the crew together even when they learned that they weren't quite where they thought they were.

"I was on the surface the whole time Admiral," he said finally. "What little I do remember from between bouts of delirium wouldn't prove or disprove their story. I can tell you though that when I got to the bridge this morning, the satellites were gone… and then suddenly they were back."

"Okay then," the admiral said with a sigh. "I want you to delete all record of this from your logs. As much as possible, knowledge of this will be classified—I really don't want rumors getting around that you travel through time."

"Agreed, Admiral."

Jon looked at T'Pol and Trip, and then back at Forrest. "Admiral, there is one other thing I'd like to discuss with you."

"More war stories?" Forrest asked sarcastically.

"No sir, I would like to recommend a commendation for ever member of the crew… including those that didn't make it home."

Forrest smiled slightly; this was the Jonathan Archer he'd known before. "Of course," he said assuringly. "Their Star Fleet records will be updated to show their service to Earth."

Jon cocked his head slightly, saying, "Admiral, the MACO's aren't Star Fleet. They deserve recognition just as much as the rest of us."

Forrest nodded and said, "You're right Jon. I'll talk to their CO, make sure it gets taken care of us. All of you did Earth a credit, and we won't forget it."

"You don't know how important they were to us Admiral," Jon agreed. "In fact, I would suggest that Star Fleet begin training our security forces in similar tactics. I'd ask to keep the MACOs aboard, but I'm sure that's not a possibility. There's a lot they could teach us though."

"I'll take that under consideration. Now, unless anyone has anything to add…" He paused, and when they all shook their heads no he said, "Very well, you all are dismissed. Enjoy your leave."

"Thank you sir," they said in unison, filing out of the office.

"Well, what are your plans?" Trip asked as they walked down the corridor together.

"I have no plans. Do you know how good that feels?" Jon asked rhetorically. "I'm just going to spend the entire month doing whatever I feel like doing, as it strikes me. No plans, no agenda, nothing."

"You and me both," Trip agreed. "I'll probably go home for a while, see my folks and all. But beyond that, I have no clue what I'm going to do with a whole month off. I can't wait to figure it out though."

The two men grinned at each other, relishing the thought of real free time. "What about you T'Pol?" Jon asked then, realizing they were leaving her out of the conversation. "Do you have any plans for your vacation?"

"Vulcans do not take vacation, so I am unaccustomed with finding frivolous activity to fill my day," she said, her brow crinkling slightly in confusion. "I believe I will find a peaceful place where I can enjoy the woods, but beyond that I am not sure what I will do."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out in a few days," Jon told her, smiling as touched her lightly on the shoulder. "I'll see you in a month, both of you," he said when they reached his corner.

When he got home, the injury in his side was pulling, reminding him that he'd promised Phlox—was that just this morning—to take things easy. Sore and bone tired, he stripped his uniform off and climbed into bed, not even bothering to set the alarm. _"I'm on vacation,"_ he told himself, _"I don't have to get up."_

_It was dark and dank, he couldn't see anything but he could feel the cold, damp earth beneath his hands. Moving them over the surface, he wondered where exactly he was and why he was here. What was going on here? Why wasn't he in his quarters on __Enterprise__?_

_There were no answers to be found there, just more wet dirt. Getting up on his knees, he scooted around, trying to explore more. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see faint outlines of objects around him._

_The first he saw was a warp coil. It was similar to the type made for Starfleet ships, but not identical. Staring at it for a moment, he realized what he was looking at. _

_"You have condemned us to wander in space." Whirling his head around to find the source of the disembodied voice, he found nothing. _

_"There's no one here," he told himself, willing his racing heart to slow. "It's just my imagination."_

_Other voices crowded into his head, voices of all the people he'd seen today, thanking him for saving them. Faces came into focus, and he recognized them one by one—members of the crew, the admiral, the man at the hot dog stand… they all stood before him, smiling broadly and thanking him._

_Then he watched they slowly began to change. The smiles became malicious, the eyes hardened. The thank you turned from true gratitude to something else… "Now that we no longer live in fear," one said, "we will be to do whatever we want. Nothing will stop us from killing the Xindi."_

_He looked at all of them, horrified. "No, you don't understand," he pleaded. "We were saved so that Earth could progress as a society! Not so that we could take advantage of another race who has been used by others!"_

_But they didn't listen, instead laughing mockingly. "What a dreamer," Admiral Forrest said derisively. "I suppose you're going to tell me that the Xindi were free from all guilt? You have to make up your mind Jon, as we have made up ours…"_

_Moaning in pain, Jon closed his eyes, hoping it would block out what he was hearing as well. This was not what he had wanted, it was not the vision he'd had when he'd envisioned coming home. "How could they be so callus?" he murmured brokenly. _

_"You told me once that you cannot save humanity without holding onto what makes you human," another voice accused. " These people needed someone they could look up to, a hero, but instead they got you. What do have you done?"_

Gasping, Jon opened his eyes, taking in the beach where he was. Shading his eyes against the sun, he followed the small figure of his dog running across the sand. After a few days in San Francisco, he'd gotten restless, missing the open feeling of space. He'd packed Porthos up and caught a transport, and they'd been parked here on a deserted stretch of beach for the last week.

Phlox had been right, he'd needed a lot of rest, but every time he slept, he dreamt the same dream. People he knew and loved, changing because of what he'd done… turning into… him.

So many times in the last year he'd been forced to do things he never would have done before. In fact, during his time in the hospital tent, he'd almost welcomed the thought that he was going to die. At least then he wouldn't have to live with what he'd done.

_"But now I don't have that luxury,"_ he thought wearily. _"I can't escape the reality of my own misdeeds, I have to face them… and the feelings they bring with them."_

He tried to bury the sense of inadequacy he felt. If Admiral Forrest knew what had happened, what he'd really done, he surely would have stripped him of his command. T'Pol knew, and she'd called him on it. Trip hadn't, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to. They'd had to watch him lose what made him human...

_"Maybe I should just let Trip have T'Pol,"_ he thought morosely. _"At least he thinks he loves her… maybe he can take care of her and make her happy… I don't think I'd know how to do that anymore. There's too much in my past… she deserves better than me."_

He'd had other thoughts while he was captured as well, things he wanted to do or say. Some of them he'd already been able to cross off his list—telling Hoshi how valuable she was had been a big one, and outside of his own quarters, there was nothing more he'd wanted to see than this sight—the sunset over the ocean.

But others… he'd had time to think about what he wanted, and the answer he'd come up with scared him. Living another day, seeing his friends, even being a starship captain had all paled in comparison to one thing: being with T'Pol.

He'd fought hard against the knowledge, afraid to admit that he wanted something that much, afraid that knowing what he wanted and that he'd never get it would be the one thing that could break him mentally. But the truth had been unavoidable, too real for him to ignore.

He'd managed to avoid putting a name on it, and he still took solace in that. He knew he wanted to pursue her though, knew it now just as he had a month ago when he'd first decided to do so. The only question was a matter of when…

Sighing, he rose to his feet, ready to play in the surf again. Porthos ran up beside him, eager to be with him and do whatever he was doing. The relaxation was wonderful, the beauty of the sun and surf were balms for his aching soul. He just didn't know if it would be enough.


	4. 4

**Chapter 4:**

Jon took a deep breath when he stepped off the shuttle onto the solid deck of his ship. _"It's always good to be home,"_ he thought, enjoying feeling the hum of the engines after a month of life on solid ground.

_"It feels so good to be alive," _he mused. _"Even though I wasn't dead, it was almost like I was. I imagine I'll be seeing double takes from the crew for a while, they all thought I was dead for almost a week before they found me."_

He could understand why T'Pol had chosen not to tell the majority of the crew that he was alive until he was back safe and sound—information from Daniels was scarcely reliable. However, it had been somewhat eerie walking down the corridor and seeing crewmembers look at him as if they'd seen a ghost.

Turning to catch his science officer's eye as followed him out of the shuttle, he waited for her to join him and then fell into easily into step with her. "So what did you do with your vacation, T'Pol?" he asked while they walked down the corridor toward their respective quarters.

"I spent a great deal of time in meditation," she told him, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

He grinned; somehow it didn't surprise him that she had spent her entire month off trying to clear herself of feeling. "I bet that felt good—getting rid of all the emotional residue that must come from living with humans."

"Yes, I did achieve a certain… clarity that has not been there for a while," she agreed. "How did you fill your time?" she asked politely, returning the question.

"Laid on the beach, got a sunburn, read several books…" The last note on the list reminded him of something. "Say, T'Pol," he said, leaning against his door. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yes, Captain?"

He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to broach the question. He hadn't discussed his supposed death with anyone. "When I was… gone," he said finally, skirting the issue, "did you go in my quarters? I know you were in the ready room, so some of the things that were out of place in there make sense. But there were two or three things in my quarters that I know weren't where I left them. You and Malcolm are the only ones who could get into my quarters without my presence, and somehow I doubt he moved my books."

T'Pol nodded reluctantly, having the uncomfortable feeling of having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Yes, I did. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds…"

"Nah, it's ok. You thought I was dead, protocol was kind of beside the point," he assured her with a wry grin. "I'm just curious, what made you go in?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly.

She hesitated a moment before saying, "This is something we might not want to discuss in the middle of the corridor."

His curiosity piqued, Jon opened the door without a word and gestured for her to enter first. "Well?" he asked once she had taken a seat. "It sounds like there's a story here."

"When we were first informed of your death, I was… I sensed the loss. I…" She paused, the remembered emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "I desired something that had a connection with you, so I could… not lose you completely," she said, trying to explain something she didn't even understand herself.

"That sounds pretty emotional for a Vulcan," he tossed out, leaning back in his chair.

"You are right, it was," she agreed, knowing it was time to tell him.

"T'Pol? Are you going to tell me what's going on here?" he questioned. "You haven't been quite yourself for a while now. I didn't say much when I saw your hands trembling from fatigue and mental exhaustion after the fight near Azati Prime, or even when you broke the padd on my desk. But if I'm hearing you right, you just told me that you wanted one of my books because you… missed me?"

She flinched slightly at his quizzical tone, but nodded. "That is correct," she replied. "It seems the time has come for me to tell you something that happened to me while we were in the Expanse. I know it will shock you, but I need you to remain quiet while I give you my explanation, or… just please allow me to finish before you ask any questions."

Three years with this Vulcan had taught him many things, one of which was the fact that she doesn't fidget. _"She sure is now though,"_ he thought, watching with faint amusement while she shifted in her seat like 1000 fire ants had been dropped down her back. But the fact that her behavior was way outside the norm for her didn't escape him, and the concern he'd felt before was amplified. Suddenly he got the feeling that whatever she had to say, he wasn't going to like it. "Go ahead," he said apprehensively.

"You recall when I was exposed to the Trellium-D while we were on the Seleya," she began, folding her hands in her lap.

"Of course," he answered, instantly forgetting his vow to remain silent as he was assailed by images of his T'Pol being pulled under by emotions. The paranoia in her eyes had registered first, along with the fear he saw in her. She knew exactly what was happening to her, but she couldn't stop it.

"And after we learned it was the Trellium that had caused the reaction, we locked it away in cargo bay 2. No one had the codes to the lock except for you, Lieutenant Reed, and myself. It was clear we could not use it to shield the ship, not as long as I remained aboard. After much thought, I believed I had found a solution to that problem."

"T'Pol, tell me you didn't do what I think you did," he pleaded with her, the apprehension he'd felt before slowly turning to lead in the pit of his stomach.

She shot him a glare, saying, "Captain, please, I cannot do this if you keep interrupting me." She waited for his slight blush and nod of acquiescence before continuing. "I wanted the crew to be safe, so I did what you have already realized. I began taking small doses of Trellium-D, trying to build an immunity."

"T'Pol, that's just stupidity!" he exclaimed, rising quickly from his seat and pacing the floor in front of her. He looked down, expecting her to avoid his gaze and look apologetic, but she did not turn away. The unnamed fear he felt for her safety was shoved away, replaced by anger when she didn't appear at all remorseful. "Didn't you see how quickly your system began to react? Did you truly think it would be safe for you to take it at all?"

His anger surprised her slightly and she blinked slowly. "I thought that small doses would not affect me as much, although I have begun to wonder if that decision was made while still slightly under the effects of the Trellium. I can see now that it was not a logical conclusion, there is no other reason I would have made it."

Jon sat down hard on his bed and rested his head in his hands. "So let me get this straight," he offered, his words muffled. "You wanted to save us, and on some doped-up high, you thought the best way would be to put yourself in danger. Yeah, I'd have to agree—that wasn't very logical. Exactly how long did this continue?"

"Three months," she replied quietly, waiting for his reaction.

"Three months??" he exploded, his stomach turning sour. "You were still taking Trellium when I left you in charge of my ship after I flew down to Azati Prime? That's why you were so emotional, pleading with me not to go?"

He didn't want to hear her answer. In the last month of their mission, as Enterprise went through hell and back together, and when he'd been faced with the future possibility of a relationship and child between Trip and T'Pol, he'd consoled himself with the emotion she'd shown then. And now to be told it was all a reaction to a drug…

"That is why I expressed myself so freely," she admitted. "However, I would not have wanted you to die even if I had fully known what I was saying."

The words she thought would help cut more deeply than anything else she could have said. He knew she didn't want him to die, he knew their friendship extended that far. What he hadn't been willing to admit until now was that he wanted more than that from her, and that he felt more than that for her. Until now, he'd held a glimmer of hope that she might feel the same way, but apparently that wasn't the case.

Shoving away the pain, he asked, "That's why it was good for you to have a month to spend in meditation, wasn't it? You've still been struggling with emotions, and this gave you a chance to take them back."

T'Pol again blinked slowly in surprise, fighting back a different kind of fear—the fear of being vulnerable. No one else, not even Commander Tucker, could read her so easily. She watched closely as he stood up, looking for any sign that he would use this knowledge against her, but his expression was completely closed. "Yes," she said simply, hoping to end this line of questioning before he learned anything else about her.

"And now?" he asked, his voice tight and his posture rigid. "Are you back to normal? Do you feel able to take command of the ship if necessary?"

"I have always been able to command the ship," she replied, stung.

"The hell you have!" he retorted. "I saw you when you thought you were sending me off to my death; I saw you, T'Pol! At that moment, if someone had asked you to sell the crew off one by one, you would have done it in a heartbeat… if you thought it would save my life. At the time, I reminded myself that you were a Vulcan and would never do something that illogical, but you weren't logical then were you? You were driven by emotions. Emotions get people killed T'Pol, and I'll be damned if I'll let yours kill my crew. So I ask again: Are you able to command?"

"Yes, sir," she said formally, straightening almost to attention.

"Good. Then we don't need to talk about this anymore—ever. I expect to see you at your station tomorrow as usual," he told her, turning away from her.

She stared at his back, stunned and hurt by his reaction. "Good night Captain," she said quietly as she left the room.

_"Good night, T'Pol, hello nightmare," _Jon thought to himself, burying all thoughts he'd had of a closer relationship with his first officer. _"Would I ever be sure that she was truly feeling something for me, or would I always wonder if it was just a by-product of the Trellium? I don't want a relationship clouded by doubt."_

His thoughts then turned to Trip, and for the first time since learning of their relationship, he felt something other than jealousy toward his friend—pity. Pity that he too had been deceived, and worse than that, used. "At least I found out what before pursuing her," he muttered, absentmindedly pulling his clothes off. "Trip didn't have that luxury."

"Then again," he realized, pausing his motions with one foot in the air as he was yanking his boot off, "he's not even sure he really loves her anyway, so maybe he doesn't need pity."

"Either way," he said with a shrug, removing the boot and its companion and tossing them on the deck, "that answers all my questions about her feelings for me. They weren't real," he said bitterly, feeling again the stab of betrayal.__

Ignoring the strange looks she was getting from passing crewmembers, T'Pol was still standing in the corridor outside his quarters, staring at the door. _"That did not go as well as I had hoped,"_ she thought. _"However, it is understandable that he is upset. I did put the crew in danger, and I lied to him. I must not lie to him again, he deserves nothing less than the truth."_ Trying to push aside the dejection she felt at his reaction, she turned away.


	5. 5

**Chapter 5:**

Hoshi shifted uneasily in her seat. The atmosphere on the bridge had been distinctly cool since they'd left space dock, but she couldn't quite pin down the reason. _"I wish I'd stayed on Earth,"_ she thought wistfully as she shifted again, trying not to think about the woefully missing camaraderie that had made this job fun.

"We are approaching a binary system Captain," T'Pol told him then as she ran a routine scan.

"Is there anything interesting down there Malcolm?" Jon asked.

His anger and disappointment with T'Pol had been bubbling just the surface for nearly a week. Somehow, he had convinced himself that he didn't need to deal with how he felt about the situation, choosing instead to pretend it didn't exist.

The tactical officer suppressed a sigh. The first time the captain had bypassed T'Pol and asked him a question, he'd been surprised, but it had become routine now. "It doesn't appear so sir. A few class M planets, none of them inhabited. That's all."

"Travis, why don't you swing us around so we have something to look at anyway," Jon ordered.

"Aye sir," Travis said with a nod, smoothly changing the ship's course.

"Captain, may I see you in your ready room please?" T'Pol requested then, biting back her anger.

"Of course," he replied indolently, rising from his seat. "After you."

The entire bridge crew gaped at his blatant rudeness, wondering what was going on. His words had been polite, but the tone and attitude were anything but. Things between the two commanding officers had been tense before, but he had always treated her with professional courtesy in front of the general rank and file. This had degraded to an all-time low.

T'Pol's lips tightened as she left the bridge, only waiting for the door to shut behind them before turning her barely contained frustration on him. "Captain, has my performance been lacking in some way in the last week?" she questioned.

Jon shrugged, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. "Not that I'm aware of," he replied.

"Then why are you side-stepping me at every opportunity? You ask Lieutenant Reed for information when my scans would be far more detailed, you ignore me unless I speak to you, or if it's absolutely necessary. I could be invisible!" Her short rant finished, she stared at him, waiting for an answer.

He returned her glare, taking pleasure in knowing he had riled her. "Having some trouble controlling those emotions T'Pol?" he asked snidely. "It's not as easy as it looks, is it? Still sure you can handle it?"

"Has this week just been some test?" she asked incredulously.

"I thought you didn't need a test. You said you were perfectly capable of commanding; do you still think so? Do you still think you can keep your _emotions_ under control?" he demanded, sneering as he uttered the word 'emotion,' turning it into a four letter word.

"Is that how you have rationalized your attitude towards me this week?" she questioned quietly. "By telling yourself that you need to know if I can maintain my composure, even when I am being treated poorly? Have you convinced yourself that this little training mission is for the good of the ship, and it doesn't matter how you have to act for it to work?"

"Ah… I don't know," he admitted, starting to sense that his behavior had been less than perfect.

"Well Captain, I suggest you figure it out," she told him sharply, her patience wearing thin. "Until then, since you have made it so clear that my presence is not needed, I will be working from my quarters."

_"I guess I went too far,"_ he admitted, wanting to apologize but unable to get the words past his lingering anger. _"I've got to get this figured out, today," _he concluded, knowing the current state of things on the bridge was not helpful for good order and discipline.

__"T'Pol… wait," he said before she could leave. "I have something to do, you need to stay."

"You're actually trusting me with the ship?" she asked. "I assumed my emotions would be too much for me," she said sarcastically.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he muttered, quickly escaping the small room.

"You have the bridge, T'Pol," he announced for the benefit of the crew, wincing when he saw their surprise as he stepped into the lift.

_"Have I really been so awful to her that she doesn't think I trust her to do her job, or that the whole bridge crew wonders as well?"_ he asked himself, nodding absently to a crewman he passed in the corridor. _"__Be honest with yourself Jon,"_ he told himself then, shaking his head slightly. _"You don't fully trust her to do her job."_

_"And with good reason!"_ part of his mind protested. _"__She lied to me for months, didn't tell me about a serious medical condition… How am I supposed to be able to trust her? She could have died, and I never would have known why."_

A memory of the fear he'd felt when she had told him came to him, and with it the faint thought that perhaps it wasn't simply anger he was feeling. _"Trellium kills Vulcans,"_ he reminded himself, feeling his mouth go dry at the thought. _"I saw it happen with my own eyes, am I going to be watching it happen to T'Pol?"_

Shaking his head briskly, he shoved aside the images of Seleya crew, half out of their minds with and dying because of it. Anger he could handle, but not the thought of losing her. _"__As a crewmember,"_ he added hastily just before reaching sickbay.

"Hello Doc," Jon said, walking in and taking a seat on a biobed.

"By all means Captain, make yourself at home," Phlox said dryly, staring at him over a cage of bats.

"Thanks," Jon replied, distractedly swinging his legs back and forth.

"Is something disturbing you Captain?" Phlox questioned when the captain didn't say anything else.

"Huh? Oh… yeah, you could say that… I just don't know how exactly to bring it up," he said, scratching absently at his stubble.

Phlox cocked his head to one side, trying to determine the source of his disquiet. "Is it something about a crewmember?" he asked, not seeing any signs of physical discomfort and quickly jumping to the next most logical conclusion. If the captain wasn't here for himself, he was probably seeking information about someone else.

"Yeah," Jon said, fidgeting slightly, not quite looking him in the eye.

_"__Now we're getting somewhere,"_ Phlox thought, thinking he knew what was going on. At least he hoped he did, he'd been urging T'Pol to tell the captain of her condition for a while. "Ah… perhaps a member of the bridge crew?"

Suddenly Jon looked up, his gaze sharpening. "You know," he accused, feeling betrayed once again.

A genuine smile on his face, Phlox spread his hands out in front of him. "I can neither confirm nor deny that Captain… at least not until you tell me what we're talking about," he added hastily, attempting to cut off the other man's protest and ready anger.

"You know what we're talking about!" Jon exclaimed, jumping off the bed and approaching the doctor. "T'Pol and the Trellium!" he said, looking intently at him, daring him to deny any knowledge of it.

To his credit, Phlox did not flinch under the intense examination, simply answering calmly, "That's what I thought, I just wanted to be sure. Yes, I've known for about two months."

That was more than Jon was expecting. "Wait. You've known… for two months… that my first officer was under the influence of drugs, and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, to be honest by the time she came to me she was no longer experiencing direct effects," Phlox said with a shrug. "She was however suffering from rather severe withdrawal."

"Withdrawal?? She was addicted??? Does no one believe in telling their captain anything anymore?"

The question was rhetorical, but Phlox felt compelled to defend himself anyway. "I did encourage her to tell you, but she was rather adamant about not doing so. As her physician, I was bound by confidentiality agreements to adhere to her wishes."

Anger welled up in Jon once again, but he tried to tamp it down. Learning that someone had wanted T'Pol to tell him and she had still chosen not to do so upset him, and it bruised his pride. Didn't she think he was approachable? "Let's get something straight Doc," he said sharply. "If one of my crew has an illness or condition that affects their mental capacity, you will inform me."

"Captain…" Phlox began to protest, not liking the thought of being ordered to divulge what he considered confidential information.

"You will inform me, or I will go back to Earth and get a doctor who will," Jon said firmly. "Are we clear?"

Phlox sighed, knowing he would abide by the captain's rules. No other medical posting had ever given him the sense of fulfillment that being on Enterprise did, and after three years, most of the crew considered him to be their primary physician. He wouldn't leave just because of a philosophical difference with the captain, but he did feel compelled to state his discomfort with the new policy. "Absolutely… but for the record, I don't agree."

"You can not agree all you want, but that's how it is." Taking a quick breath, he reminded himself that he wasn't angry with the doctor. He deserved an explanation, not just arbitrary commands. "Phlox, she almost broke down at least once right after she stopped taking the Trellium. What if she'd been on the bridge, or on an away mission?" He watched the Denobulan's expressive face, pinpointing the exact moment when the full implications of what he was saying sunk in.

"Yes, I can see how that might be a problem. Very well, I will inform you of anything that affects their mental abilities—but only mental captain. I won't be coerced into telling you anything beyond that."

"That's fair."

"Good. Now that we've reached an understanding, what was it you wanted to discuss? But remember, if it is something about her physical condition, I reserve the right not to answer."

Jon stared at him, suddenly aware that he hadn't come to talk to Phlox about the mental effects of Trellium, or the necessity of a doctor-captain agreement. Those had been the reasons he'd give himself, or rather that he'd allowed himself to see. His real reason was much simpler, and much more complex. "I wanted to know… she said she kept taking it for three months. Are their any possible long term effects?"

"Well, she will most likely never regain full control of her emotions, not the way a Vulcan should have control anyway. I believe she is adapting to that rather well though, learning to deal with them in much the same way humans do."

"I'm sure she loves that," Jon muttered. "But what I'm really curious about… we saw what Trellium does to Vulcans after prolonged exposure. I saw the zombized Vulcans on that ship Doc, and I saw the bodies. Is there any chance…"

He stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, he looked at Phlox imploringly, silently asking him the question he could not voice.

"Ah, you want to know if there's any chance it could kill her," the doctor asked bluntly.

"Yes," Jon replied quietly, steeling himself for the worst.

"No Captain, I believe she is out of danger in that respect. If she had continued taking it, there might be a different story. But she did not, and there are no more traces of Trellium in her system anymore. If she was going to experience any of the negative side effects, they would have occurred by now."

Relieved, Jon jumped off the biobed, ready to return to the bridge and pretend that the last week had never happened. "Thanks Doc."

"Captain, I do have a question for you," Phlox said before he could leave.

"Yes?" Jon asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"What was your response when she told you? She was quite sure you would be angry, it was part of the reason she did not tell you earlier."

"I… well, yeah I was angry. She should have told me ages ago, no scratch that. She shouldn't have taken the Trellium to begin with, I don't care what her reasons were. It was foolish, she could have killed herself."

"Did you tell her that you were upset because she could have died, or did you just yell at her?" Phlox asked astutely, knowing the answer before he asked the question. _"How humans manage to have any relationships at all is beyond me,"_ he mused, still amazed at the lack of communication skills they exhibited in their personal lives.

"Ah… I might have just yelled at her," Jon admitted sheepishly, shuffling his feet against the deck. A sudden picture of how she must have taken his accusations became clear to him, sending guilt spiraling through him.

"Well, think about it… you might want to go back and explain. If you feel it is necessary of course."

"Thanks Doc, I might do that," Jon said, walking out deep in thought.

_"__It was mostly worry that caused me to react like I did, wasn't it?"_ he realized. _"__And I told her that, but I told her I was worried that she might have done something to put the crew in jeopardy. I didn't once tell her I was concerned about her, I just jumped straight to how it made me feel._

_"And to be honest, I don't like how it makes me feel. Maybe that was part of it. She only cared about me because the drug told her to care about something… I don't want to admit how much that hurts."_

When he reached the bridge, he was surprised to see beta shift on duty. Apparently, he'd spent more time talking with Phlox than he was aware of. Covering his blunder easily, he walked straight to his ready room and retrieved a padd before returning to the lift, trying to look like he was intently reading whatever it said.

Once he'd reached his own deck, he walked quickly toward his cabin, half inclined to have food brought to him tonight. Somehow, eating with others didn't appeal to him, especially T'Pol. If he sat with her for very long, he might see even more clearly how much he had wronged her, and that would be… awkward.

Stopping just inside the door, he realized what he'd just told himself. He didn't want to see her because he didn't want to have to admit he was wrong. It was time to take care of this. Setting down the padd, he exited the room without letting the door shut at all, not even stopping to change into casual clothes.

Once he reached his destination, he took a deep breath. _"I can do this,"_ he told himself, hitting her door chime. Yes, he had come to the conclusion that an apology was necessary, but he wasn't sure he could keep his own emotions under control while talking to her. "Can I talk with you T'Pol?" he requested from outside her door.

"Of course Captain, you may come in," she answered, rising to open the door herself. "Can I help you?" she asked hesitantly when they were face to face.

"I hope so," he told her. "I have some issues that I need help working through, and I was hoping I could talk to you about them."

"I am not sure," she hesitated.

"Please?" he pleaded. "There's really no one else I can talk to."

"Very well… as long as it is work related," she agreed.

"No, actually it's not," Jon said, her words reminding him that he was treading on shaky ground here. It stung a little to know she didn't trust him fully right now, but he knew it was no less than he deserved. "Or perhaps you could say it is… I'm concerned about one of my crewmembers

"Believe it or not, I understand your reticence," he said hurriedly before she could launch into a speech about the foolishness of asking her to help him. "We have a phrase on Earth: 'Once bitten, twice shy'."

"I am unsure how that pertains to us," T'Pol replied blandly, trying to maintain her cool façade, trying to hide how much his recent behavior had hurt her.

_"I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for her,"_ he realized. _"She's not going to let me get away with just hinting at what I mean… and after the way I've treated her, I can't say as I blame her,"_ he thought guiltily, taking in the wary look on her face.

"It means that once you've been hurt by something, you're less willing to try it again. It's a natural fear," he assured her, wanting to ease her fears.

"Fear is not natural for a Vulcan," she said reflexively, drawing back into the protective realm of old patterns.

_"Ah, and there we get to the point,"_ Jon thought. "No, I suppose it's not," he said aloud. "Why don't you let me tell you what's on my mind? If you still don't want to talk to me, I'll leave."

"I'm not sure what purpose it would serve, Captain," she said stringently, wanting nothing more than to be left alone, in a situation where this man did not have the power to hurt her.

"Would it change your opinion if I told you my concerns are about a Vulcan?" he asked quietly.

"A Vulcan?" she repeated, her eyes darting back and forth nervously.

"Yes," he said, getting to his feet and moving to stand in front of her. "This Vulcan has been on my staff for three years. In that time I have come to depend on her level-headed approach to any situation Enterprise has found itself in. Her calm, rational thinking has saved us more times than she knows."

He paused, taking a moment to gauge her expression. The growing agitation he saw there worried him, but he also detected a desperation to be understood. That was what drove him to continue. "But lately, her logic has become erratic. Her reasoning has been, dare I say it, emotional."

T'Pol drew a breath, thinking this was her chance to explain. "Captain, I…"

"I'm not through yet T'Pol," he said softly. "I admit that as the captain, I should have noticed the changes before I did. I should have realized that something was wrong with you months ago, but I was too involved in the mission. I'm sorry for that," he told her, moving closer to her.

"You are not to blame Captain," she said, trying to appease his guilt. "I did not want you to know what was happening."

"That may be T'Pol, but I should have seen it anyway. I just wasn't paying enough attention, and it could have gotten you killed."

"That is unlikely. At the rate I was consuming the Trellium, it would have taken me at least a year before it reached dangerous levels in my bloodstream."

"Somehow, that doesn't comfort me," he muttered, taking a moment to process the knowledge that she could have died, despite Phlox's reassurances.

"T'Pol, I didn't express myself very well earlier," he said then. "When you told me you'd taken the Trellium, I got angry with you."

"You had every right to be angry," she said. "I broke your trust in me, my actions were foolhardy…everything you said was correct."

"Yes, but I didn't say everything that needed to be said. I didn't tell you that it scared me to think that you could have died, and I wouldn't have known why until it was too late. I didn't tell you that you're a valuable member of the crew and that I'd hate to lose you. I didn't say any of that."

"No, you did not," she said, unable to believe that he was saying those things now.

He saw that, and plowed on with his speech. "I should have though, and I'm saying it now. I'm also informing you of my new policy—from now on, anytime something happens that you think might affect your ability to perform your duties, I need to you let me know. This is going to be a ship wide policy; I get the feeling a lot of things went untaken care of while we were on our mission. That's got to stop now."

"Does that apply to yourself as well?" she asked, looking at him intently, seeing a chance to turn the focus from her to something else that had been disturbing her lately.

"What?" he asked, thrown off by the change in subject.

She repeated her question, being more specific this time. "Are there things in your life that went unattended to that you will deal with now, or are you going to focus on everyone else?"

The almost accusatory tone in her voice caught him off guard. "What are you talking about?" he asked defensively.

"Our mission changed you Captain," she told him. "You lost some of what makes you a good man—the kindness perhaps. Are you going to take that back, or is it simply the way things will be from now on?"

"Are you giving me a lecture?" he asked, getting riled up. _"__I came here to apologize, and now she's blaming me for even more things?"_

"No Captain, I am simply asking a question. You said we would begin dealing with things that got pushed aside while we were in the Expanse. I think it is a good idea, but I would like to know how much is actually going to change. Apparently I have my answer," she said curtly, turning away from him.

Her questions threw him off guard, making him think about things he'd been trying not to think about. Quick flashes came to him—keeping the alien closed in the airlock until he got the information he needed, willingly stealing a piece of equipment from another vessel… all things done in the name of the mission, things he never would have done before.

He knew he had a lot to answer for, but he was still surprised to hear it coming from her. She had always been confrontational, but this went beyond anything she'd done before, and he didn't know what to say.

"T'Pol…" he said, not sure how to answer her.

"You may go Captain," she told him formally.

He stared at her back for a moment before nodding slightly, despite the fact that she couldn't see him. "Good-night Sub-commander," he said quietly.


	6. 6

**Chapter 6:**

"Captain's log, July 15, 2154." Jon paused in his recording, flexing his hand slightly and thinking about the events of the past two hours.

"T'Pol's words to me lingered in the back of my mind for weeks. It was hard to accept that I might have changed so drastically, I didn't want to admit that I saw it myself. Instead, I avoided thinking about it, until it became painfully obvious how right she was.

"It all started when we first met the Cilerite ship…"

_"Captain, there's a ship coming out of warp just in front of us," Travis said just as it materialized on the view screen._

_"They're hailing us Captain," Hoshi informed him._

_"Put it through," he said, rising from his seat. The anxiety in his system was uncomfortable: a year ago, he'd have been excited to meet a new species. But now, too many things had happened for him to believe all first contacts would be pleasant experiences. He could only hope this one would be._

_"Unknown vessel, this is the Cilerite_ _ship Kumari. You are trespassing in Cilerite_ _territory, leave immediately or you will be fired upon."_

_Jon and T'Pol exchanged startled glances while Malcolm did a quick scan of their ship. "They are charging weapons sir," he confirmed._

_"Kumari, this is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Earth ship __Enterprise__. We apologize, we were unaware this section of space belonged to you. We'll be leaving…"_

_"Captain," Malcolm interrupted, nodding at Hoshi to cut off the transmission. "Two Cilerites_ _just beamed aboard __Enterprise_

_"Did they really?" Jon asked, arching a brow in surprise. "Re-open the channel Hoshi," he ordered. _

_"I assure you, we are more than willing to leave your system. It is unnecessary for you to…"_

_"We have two members of our crew on board your ship, and we are beaming over two members of your crew as we speak," the Cilerite_ _captain interrupted. "They will remain on the respective ships until we have escorted you out of our space, and then they will be returned to their correct ships."_

_"They've cut the transmission sir," Hoshi said then._

_"Get them back on, tell them they can't just kidnap two of our people like that," Jon demanded._

_Hoshi tried, but shook her head. "No response sir."_

_"Malcolm?"_

_"Yes sir…We are missing two crewmembers."_

_"Cap'n?" Trip's voice came over the comm._

_"We've got a situation on our hands Trip, whatever it is will have to wait."_

_"Yeah, I can see that," Trip muttered, looking around Engineering at the slightly panicked look on his officers' faces. "I just wanted you to know that Ensign Walters disappeared, I don't know where she went off to. I don't mind telling you that we're a little nervous down here, people don't usually just go missing like that."_

_"It's a long story Trip, I'll tell you about it later—after she's back. Archer out."_

_Jon's jaw clenched while he contemplated his possible actions. He couldn't just let these people get away with taking two of his crew, for no apparent reason. "Travis," he ordered, his decision made, "take us out the way we came in. Malcolm, take me to our visitors," he said grimly._

_"With pleasure sir," Malcolm said, stepping toward the lift. _

_"Sub-commander, you have the bridge," Jon said, following him._

_"Sir, may I ask what you intend to do?" she asked in a low voice only he could hear. The rigid set to his jaw was the only answer she needed, but she wanted him to say to it, to hear the words coming from his own mouth. Maybe then he'd realize how foolish he was being._

_"No you may not,"__ he answered curtly before the door shut._

_"Well Malcolm, I think we need to show these Cilerites_ _what happens when you kidnap a human, don't you?" Jon suggested, a hard glint in his eye._

_"That sounds like an excellent idea sir," Malcolm agreed, not knowing what his captain had in mind._

_It soon became all too clear to him. When they reached the place where they had beamed in, they were surprised to find two unarmed males. "We are your bond servants until your ship reaches neutral space," one said. _

_"Bond servants? You mean like slaves?" Jon asked quietly, the muscle in his jaw tensing and relaxing._

_"In a sense," the other agreed, nodding his head. "We are yours to command. If you choose to stay in our space, we will stay on your ship, and your people will stay on ours."_

_"Consider it extra motivation to leave," the first one said lightly._

_"Motivation?"__ Jon roared, all restraint lost. "I didn't need any **motivation** to leave, I was perfectly willing to go after you asked. But no, you had to take two of my people!"_

_"That's the way we Cilerites_ _do things."_

_"Well it's not the way we humans do things," Jon sneered. "And what's with this slave business? Are you telling me that my people will be ordered around by yours while their on your ship?"_

_"The term bond servant is meant to describe a commitment between the two ships, that the one will leave," the aliens tried to explain. "There is no true servitude involved."_

_"No, only capture and ransom," Jon retorted. "I ought to…" _

_Wordless to express his rage, he instead grabbed one of the aliens by his color and pulled his fist back. Malcolm, who'd been watching with growing unease, reached out quickly and pulled his hand away. "No sir, you can't do that," he insisted._

_"Why not?"__ Jon argued, not letting go of the alien. "They took two of ours, do you really want to let that go unpunished?"_

_"No sir, I don't," Malcolm said. "But if we injure these two, what are our chances of getting Walters and Manetti back? They were sent here in a gesture of good faith, as misguided as it was. Let's not abuse that."_

_Slowly, Jon's grip on the other man's collar lessened, until he was able to squirm away. "Take them to the brig until Walters and Manetti are back," he ordered, looking away._

_"Captain," one of the aliens interjected as they were led away, "if we had known you would feel so strongly about this, we would not have done it. It is simply the way we have always done things."_

_"Well, you might want to look into some new customs," Jon retorted before walking away._

"They kept their word," Jon mused, still doing his log entry. "Within an hour, we'd reached the border of their space. No sooner had we crossed it than the exchange was made, ours for theirs."

He sighed, flexing his hand again and thinking about how close he had come to hitting that unarmed man. "T'Pol was right," he concluded. "My… darker side is getting the better of me. "I wasn't thinking about first contact or treaties at all, the only thing on my mind was getting my people back.

"Of course, making sure they were safe should have been my main focus. However, there are right ways and wrong ways to do things. I was using the wrong way."

He paused again, frowning when he heard what he had just admitted. It was true, but some things were too personal to go in a captain's log. "Computer pause," he ordered. "Erase the whole entry."

With his confession deleted, he instead chose a more personal means of therapy. Yes, the incident needed to be dealt with, but not by Starfleet. There was only one person he could think of who could help him become the man he used to be and wanted to be again.

"Come in," T'Pol invited when her chime rang. She knew exactly who was outside her door, she had been waiting for his visit. Today's events had been just what she had known would happen if he did not deal with what the Expanse had done to him, she just hoped he could see it too.

"You were right," he said the instant he could see her. "You were right about me. I changed, the mission changed me. I don't even think twice anymore before doing things I never would have considered doing before… what happened to me T'Pol?" he questioned, kneeling on her floor.

"You were forced to change by the circumstances around you," she said in an almost consoling tone. The confusion and anguish she heard in his voice tore at her heart, and she had an irrational need to assure him that he was still a good man. "It does not mean that you changed on the inside, but there are some things that need to be dealt with."

"That's the understatement of the year," he said with a snort of half-hearted amusement. "I almost violated every code of first contact I've made for myself, just because I couldn't control my anger. I can see why you hate human emotion so much," he said with self-derision.

"I have discovered, Captain, that emotion has it's values… as long as you control it instead of letting it control you."

She paused to let her statement sink in before continuing. "In the last year, you have let your emotions rule all your decisions. At the time, it was only natural, since our mission had such an emotional basis. There was no way you could have separated your feelings about protecting your planet from your mission to do so, and we all accepted that.

"But as time went on, your emotions began to control everything… it became almost an addiction for you, just as it was for me."

"I think you're right," he agreed slowly. "I had to turn my logic off, because if I'd thought about what I was doing, I wouldn't have had the stomach for it. My emotions just kind of took over."

"Kind of?" T'Pol echoed, raising a brow in question.

"Okay, they really did," Jon admitted.

"Yes, they did. As I said, at the time it made sense… we were in a dangerous situation. That is not the case anymore Captain," she told him, piercing him with a gaze. "We are no longer in constant danger. You can afford to think about what you're doing, and Enterprise cannot afford to have you not think about it. We need our practical captain back."

"Practical?" Jon asked, mimicking her raised brow. "I never thought I'd see you call a human practical," he teased, eager to let the serious subject go for a moment.

"I did not say logical captain, I said practical," she countered. "I am willing to admit that humans can be practical, when it suits their purposes."

"How gracious of you," he said, rolling his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized how far their friendship had come, if they were able to tease each other about their respective heritages. At one point, any comment by the other would have automatically sent defenses flying. Now they knew when comments were made in jest. _"Hmm, a T'Pol who truly appreciates a joke… her new emotions might have some benefits after all."_

"Captain, we are straying from the subject at hand," she chided gently.

"Do we have to talk about it anymore?" he said, almost whined, eager to put the day's events behind him.

"I believe there is still much to discuss," she insisted.

"You're probably right," he said with a sigh, leaning back against the floor. "But can it wait for another day? I know I've been bad," he said.

"Jonathan," she said, using his first name as she did only when they were discussing personal issues, "you are acting like a child."

The reprimand had the opposite effect from what she desired—he started laughing. "I'm sorry T'Pol," he said when he saw her startled look. "It's just that… you sounded just like my mother when you said that, and I had a sudden picture of you with a small human child… do you think you'd have the patience for that?" he asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"I hardly think a human should be questioning a Vulcan's capacity for patience," T'Pol reminded, hiding the sudden softness she felt at the thought of having a human child to care for.

Jon looked at her, shocked. "Was that a smile I just saw?" he teased, watching as she quickly schooled her expression.

"I don't know what you are talking about Captain," she said briskly. "Vulcans do not smile, it is a sign of emotion."

After three years, they knew the exchange by rote. However, this time he paid close attention to her face, knowing that for the first time, emotion was playing a role in her life.

Feeling his scrutiny, she tried to hide her sudden unease, but he caught a glimpse of the vulnerability lurking in her eyes. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered gently.

"About what?" she asked, choosing to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

"About your emotions, and the way they're changing you."

"You are mistaken," she bluffed. "I have not changed, I have merely… adapted to a new force in my life."

"That's bull T'Pol, and you know it," he told her bluntly. "There is no way you can convince me that going from completely managing away all emotion to experiencing them in full hasn't changed you. Remember, I've had to deal with those emotions all my life. I know what they can do to you."

"Do you?" she asked, a faint plea in her voice.

"I do," he confirmed with a nod. "And I believe our original deal was that you would help me and I would help you… if you want me to that is," he added hastily, not wanting to intrude on her privacy.

She tilted her head as she looked at him, considering his offer. _"I need to talk about them with someone I can trust," _she thought, remembering the advice her older self had given. _"There is no one I trust more than the captain, and he has indicated that he would appreciate my help in recovering some of his former personality. Perhaps this would be mutually beneficial."_

"Very well Captain, I accept your offer to help," she said formally, still slightly uncomfortable with the idea of actually working through emotion instead of shoving it under the rug.

"Great!" he said enthusiastically, then narrowing his eyes in question. "How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"Perhaps for the moment it would be best if we simply confronted each other when we felt it necessary," she suggested.

"Agreed. Long counseling sessions and talks about our feelings just doesn't seem to be our style."

"Precisely. And in light of that, may we return to the earlier topic of your behavior today?" she questioned.

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" he groaned, reclining on the floor.

"Only if you persist in avoiding the subject Captain," she told him archly.

"Jonathan. If we're going to be… accountability partners, you have got to call my by my first name T'Pol—and not just when you think I'm acting like a child," he tossed out with a grin.

"Very well Jonathan. Since you have no problems addressing my by my given name, it would be redundant to offer the same privilege."

"Does that bother you?" he asked, suddenly concerned that he'd been insulting her for three years without even realizing it.

"No, it is appropriate for our relationship. You are the superior, as such it is your prerogative to address me by my name, whereas I need permission to do likewise with you."

"Well, you've got my permission now," he told her with a grin, amused by her formal language.

"Are you attempting to distract me from the topic at hand sir?" she questioned severely, suddenly realizing that they had strayed once more from the events of the day.

"Would I do a thing like that?" he asked innocently.

"I believe you are just devious enough to do so," she muttered.

He sighed, straightening up a little. "Well, I might," he allowed. "But really T'Pol, I don't see that there's much left to talk about. We can only say the same thing so many times before it gets repetitious. I know I shouldn't have approached the Cilerites with aggression, I know it could affect all future contact with them. I know that the reason I did so was because of the way I changed in the Expanse."

"But what is your plan to keep from doing so in the future?" she countered, a challenge in her eyes.

"My plan? My plan is to let you tie my down to the bridge the next time I feel like doing something stupid," he told her, laughing when her eyebrows flew up to her hairline. "I'm only kidding T'Pol, well half kidding anyway. Seriously, my plan is to listen to you next time. You were right, I should not have gone down there, not in the state I was in."

"And how exactly am I to keep you on the bridge?" she asked, finding a serious flaw in his logic. "You are the captain, I cannot order you to remain where you are."

He thought for a moment. She was right, neither she nor anyone else could truly stop him from doing whatever he wanted to do. However, today had shown him that he did need someone to hold him to a higher standard; an accountability partner, as he had phrased it earlier.

"Remind me of our deal," he said finally. "And if it doesn't look like I'm going to stop, ask to talk to me in the ready room. When no one else is present, you can order me around as much as you want. You always have."

"I do not order you around," she said, affronted. "I merely point out times when your decisions are perhaps not the wisest ones you could make."

"Ah, is that what the Vulcans call insubordination?" he asked, taking pleasure in ribbing her lightly.

She rose quickly, turning to look out the window. "If you feel I am lacking in proper decorum, then maybe this is not a good idea."

Jon stared at her, completely stunned by her emotional reaction. "T'Pol," he said, moving to stand behind her, "I was just joking. If you were any more proper… well, I don't know what they'd do, but you've got to see that there's nothing wrong with your behavior."

"I apologize Captain," she said stiffly, still not facing him. "It appears my emotions have gotten the better of me again."

"What do you mean, again?" he asked, curious.

"There was a similar incident with Commander Tucker a few weeks ago, just before we learned of your death," she said. "He made a comment to me, and I assumed… I assumed he was saying that I am old."

"You jumped to a conclusion?" he said, raising his brows a little. Emotional outbursts were one thing, but conclusions were a completely different area of illogic, one he hadn't realized she would struggle with as well.

"I did," she confirmed. "I allowed my emotions to control me to the point that I revealed my age to him."

"I thought age was private for Vulcans," Jon said, suddenly uncomfortable with the thought that she might be willing to share intimate details of her life with Trip, but not with him.

"It is," she agreed. "Our relationship had… progressed to a stage where it is likely that I would have told him eventually. I am not sure I liked being goaded into it though," she explained.

He relaxed a little when he heard her say she had not intended to open up to Trip, but knowing that they had a relationship that would permit it still made his heart ache. _"I thought I could just shove aside how I feel about her, but that's not going to happen,"_ he knew then.

"I can understand that," he said gently. "No one likes to feel like they're being forced, either by people or by circumstances, to share more of themselves than they wanted to. I think part of dealing with emotions is learning to control yourself when you feel pressured to do something you don't want to do."

"Captain," T'Pol said, raising a single eyebrow, "are you about to give me the sex talk?"

"The _what???_" he sputtered, his face turning beet red.

"I have heard that is how human parents begin the discussion on sex—telling their children not be pushed into doing things they don't want to do," she explained, her tone clinical.

Jon stared at her, his mouth hanging open, ready to apologize and flee the room when he saw the twinkle in her eyes. "You're teasing me!" he accused, shocked at her behavior.

"Jonathan! Would I tease you about such a thing?" she questioned, trying to hide the upturn of her lips, and failing.

"Apparently the new, emotion-equipped T'Pol would," he muttered, still flustered by the sudden heat her comments had generated.

"I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable," she said, suddenly serious again. "It just seemed to be the right moment for such a comment."

Shaking his head, Jon couldn't help but laugh. Just two weeks ago, he'd convinced himself that nothing could ever happen between himself and T'Pol now, because he wouldn't be sure if her emotions were real or not. Suddenly, he knew this simply made her more like other women. _"Does anyone ever really know what a woman is thinking?"_ he thought humorously.

"That's fine T'Pol," he told her. "I just wasn't expecting a comment like that from you."

"I shall attempt to control myself from now on," she told him solemnly, only a slight smile indicating her state of mind.

"You do that," he mock-scolded, surprised again by the glint of amusement he saw in her eyes. "And I need to get back to my quarters," he added, realizing that if the discussion went very much longer it would truly become uncomfortable.

_"Believe me T'Pol, you didn't make me uncomfortable," _he said silently as he headed toward his own cabin. _"__In fact, you may have just given me the encouragement I needed to pursue you."_


	7. 7

**Chapter 7:**

Jon stared at his door, stunned by what had just happened. For a moment, he didn't know what to think, but suddenly his face split into a wide grin, and he began singing "It's a Brazzle-Dazzle Day" in a loud voice, feeling absolutely giddy.

"She cares about me Porthos!" he hollered, feeling like shouting it from the rooftops. She cared, and for once he had actions to back up his instinct. He thought for a while that maybe… just maybe she was starting to see him as something more than a friend, and now he had concrete proof.

The last six months had been amazing, for both of them he liked to think. Under her instruction and guidance, he'd gradually lost the darker side of himself that had surfaced in the Expanse. His experiences there had changed him, and they couldn't undo that. But they could keep it from affecting the way he behaved now, and they had made serious headway in that area.

"I haven't told Malcolm to blow anyone up in weeks," he commented, realizing that it would sound ridiculous unless people knew how many times he'd been tempted to do just that.

But no one knew, no one but T'Pol. There had been three close encounters in the first few months since he had realized how he'd changed. The first time she had reminded him of their deal, he had felt the same desire to knock her on her ass that he'd had when he'd first met her. He knew what he wanted to do, what he needed to do for his ship, and here was this… _Vulcan_ holding him back!

It had taken some work, but she had managed to talk some sense into him in the privacy of his ready room. "I probably wasn't as diplomatic as I could have been when I talked to them, but they're still alive," he stated, taking pride in that small victory.

The next two times had gotten successively easier, until all he'd needed was a quick look from her to know that he needed to rein himself in. For the past two months, he'd been able to control himself without any help from her. "Well, at least without more help than I always needed from her," he , knowing that her advice had always been crucial to the decisions he made as captain, and that it would continue to be.

"And apparently, if tonight is anything to go by, she's learning to deal with her emotions," he exulted, still feeling the touch of her lips against his.

Twenty minutes ago, T'Pol had shown up on his doorstep, as it were, looking as calm and composed as ever. That was important, because if she'd been driven by emotion, it would make what happened next empty of all the meaning he hoped it held.

She'd come in, wanting to discuss something but unsure how to broach the subject. "You know you can tell me anything," he'd told her, pulling up a chair while she sat down on the couch.

"I am aware of that Jonathan," she'd said, and he'd relished in the private thrill he felt every time he heard her full name come from him.

"Then what is it?" he'd prodded gently, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable yet still curious to know what had brought her here.

"I came to discuss… emotions," she'd said hesitantly, dropping her eyes for a moment.

"I thought we were to a place where you felt like you could talk to me about those without worrying," he'd said, disappointed in what he saw as a dip in the level of trust they'd achieved.

"These are different," she'd explained, looking up at him again.

He'd raised one brow, wondering exactly what she was here to say. Forcing himself not to get his hopes up, he'd asked, "How so?"

"They are… about you," she'd answered, so quietly he'd had to lean in to hear her.

Unable to believe what he'd heard, he'd reached out and put his hand under his chin, tilting it up so he could see the look in her eyes. There he'd seen a mix of caring and attraction that had taken his breath away and given him hope, all in one moment.

"Are you saying you… might care for me T'Pol?" he had asked softly.

"I… I…" Words had failed her, so instead of answering, she'd closed the distance between them and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

The feelings that had rushed through him were instantaneous and powerful. Amazement, desire, love… they were all there, in some form or another. More than anything, he'd wanted to grab onto her and never let the moment end, but he'd managed to remember that she needed to be in control, and he'd kept his hands at his sides.

A moment later she'd pulled back, and he'd had to stifle his groan of displeasure. In her eyes he saw a haze of emotions, and a hint of confusion, so he hadn't protested when she'd stood to leave.

"That was… I have much I need to think about," she'd said breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her face. "Would you be willing to talk with me about this in the morning?" she'd asked, her hand at the door.

"Of course," he'd answered instantly, knowing that at that moment, if she'd asked him to buy her the moon, he would have gone straight to the proper authorities and offered them his life savings, just to give her what she wanted.

But she didn't want the moon, she wanted to talk… and he could do that. He could do that easily, the question was if he could wait until morning. The emotion he'd seen in her expression and felt in her kiss had stunned him, far surpassing anything he'd ever expected from her.

Faced with the possibility of having everything he had wanted for the last three and a half years, he suddenly understood a little bit more of T'Pol's reasoning for continuing her use of Trellium. She'd said that the drug gave her emotions, and that she had wanted more of them… at this moment, he could certainly relate to that.

Evocative, emotive, overpowering, overwhelming… full to over-flowing. All words to describe the feelings the kiss had inspired. The intense pleasure it had brought was simply beyond words, greater than her experience could describe.

_"So many feelings,"_ she thought desperately as she fled to her quarters. Just moments before, she had been kissing the captain. It had been a spontaneous action, one she hadn't bothered to contain, or hadn't been able to. Either way, the result was the same and now she need to live with the consequences.

For the last month, he had been pursuing her. She wasn't a fool, she knew what he'd been doing—despite never having experienced it herself. She had felt a whole barrage of new emotions in response to his behavior, from confusion to discomfort to pleasure that he found her attractive.

The last was most illogical, but she had been unable to divest herself of it. Instead, it had been that emotion she had acted on, choosing to return it in kind with a physical action.

_"How can I tell him I did not mean to do it, that it was merely an impulse, one I could not deny?"_ she agonized as she lit her meditation candles, her hands still trembling with emotion._ "He will know it was the Trellium, he will never trust me again. It would hurt him deeply if he learned that my kiss was an emotional response."_

Unfortunately, she didn't see the poor logic behind her conclusion. Kisses are supposed to be an emotional response, that's part of the definition. While the captain might be slightly concerned that her emotions were not truly her own, he would never be upset that she kissed him for emotional reasons.

And she had. As she'd watched his old character return, she'd found herself strangely stirred by the simple nobility of this man, this explorer who wanted nothing more than to leave the world a better place than it was when he came into it.

The pleasure she'd felt in seeing her friend come home had grown and changed into something more, something infinitely more dangerous. She had gone to his quarters tonight, hoping to be able to discuss it with him, yet strangely embarrassed to confess to this emotion she did not have a name for.

In the end, the words had not come. What had come had been action, one she had enjoyed immensely. Kissing him had been more than pleasant, it had been amazing. And realizing he felt something for her in return had been nothing short of awesome.

But she remained unconvinced that he would accept her as she was, with the damage she had done to herself. Grace for one's faults is not easily found on Vulcan, and her experience with it was limited. No Vulcan would accept her, knowing she had at one time been addicted to a substance which encouraged emotions, and she could not imagine that Jonathan would either.

A whisper of a thought crept into her mind as she stared at the flickering flames, searching for peace. Trip did not know that her emotions had been affected by anything but himself. The captain did however. He would likely never be able to fully accept her feelings as true, Trip would not know they could be anything but.

_"All the sensations I felt when I kissed Commander Tucker… it was the same,"_ she realized. _"And he does not know about the Trellium, he does not know that was not completely me."_

_"I need someone,"_ she told herself, feeling as if she would fall apart if she did not have someone to share these emotions with, someone to feel for. _"I need someone, and the captain will be unwilling. Perhaps my older self was right."_

The advice she'd given herself came back, unbidden. "Trip can be an outlet for these feelings," she repeated, seeking solace in the words. An outlet for the feelings, that was what she needed. She had tried managing them, tried pretending they did not exist, but they still came back, stronger than ever.

At the time, she had been reluctant to consider Trip as an option. Yes, she cared for him, but the strongest feelings she had were not for him, she knew that. _"But now, there is no one else left,"_ she concluded morosely, willing herself to set aside the idea of being with Jonathan. _"Perhaps he is the solution."_

Unhappy with the decision she'd made, yet seeing no other options, she quickly blew out the candle and left the room. But there, lingering in the air, was the rest of the advice she'd received, words which she had forgotten.

All of her older self's advice had hinged on trusting Trip, trusting him with her emotions, and though it went unsaid, trusting him with knowledge of her Trellium addiction. If she chose not to tell him, she was in fact not following the advice she'd given herself at all.

She was instead following the same pattern she'd taken once with Trip, only this time with another man. The feelings Jonathan stirred in her were powerful, and she was frightened… just as she had been in the other timeline with Trip.

Two different versions of herself, feeling deeply for two different men… leading to two relationships with the same man. History, it seems, is determined to repeat itself, despite our best efforts.


	8. 8

**Chapter 8:**

"Well Cap'n, that was a fine breakfast," Trip said, pushing back from the table. "I guess it's time to head to the salt mines though. Are you comin'?" he asked as he stood up, glancing down at Jon and catching him staring at the door.

"What? Oh… no, I think I'll have another cup of coffee," Jon said, gesturing with his cup, forgetting that it was still mostly full.

"You all right Cap'n?" Trip asked, watching with a look of confusion as Jon wiped up the coffee he'd spilled on the table.

"I'll be fine Trip," he assure him, shooting him a quick grin. "I guess I need that coffee more than I though I did though," he quipped, garnering a quick laugh from his friend.

"All right then, I'll see you for lunch," Trip promised, still laughing as he walked out.

Jon laughed with him, but as soon as the door shut all sounds of merriment disappeared. _"__Where is she?"_ he wondered, worried for a moment that she was ill. If she were anyone else, or if the situation was different, he would simply assume that she had slept in. But she had been just as eager to talk about their relationship as he had been…

"She must be coming, maybe she's just running behind," he muttered, looking at the door again. "She'll walk in here any minute and tease me for being so paranoid."

However, when he had waited ten more minutes and she still hadn't appeared, he was forced to admit that she wasn't going to come. Slowly standing from the table, he resolved to put it out of his mind on the bridge so he could get some work done.

By the end of the day, the doubts he'd felt creeping up into his mind had been shoved aside. T'Pol had been nothing but professional all day, but he'd expected nothing less from her. _"__We can talk about it tonight over dinner,"_ he told himself as he entered his quarters, changing quickly into casual attire.

Two hours later, it became clear that that too was a false hope. His dinner had come and gone, the stewards were gone for the evening, and not only had she not come in to join him, but he'd eaten completely alone. Trip hadn't joined him either, so his meal had been a lonely one.

Now he needed to know what was going on. The unease growing in the pit of his stomach refused to be ignored any longer, despite his best efforts to convince himself that nothing was wrong. Instead of going straight back to his quarters, he went to hers instead, hoping to catch her so they could talk.

He started to push the chime, then realized that his palms were sweaty, like a teenagers on a first date. Grimacing his distaste, he wiped them on the side of his pants and proceeded. A few seconds later, when he got no response, he frowned and tried again, holding the button for a little longer than necessary this time. Still no answer.

Facts were adding up in his head in a way he didn't like, but he refused to jump to conclusions. He'd had enough experience to know that half the time they were wrong, and that couldn't do anything but damage the relationship he wanted to build with her.

_"__She is avoiding me though,"_ his mind insisted. _"__There's no way all of this is just coincidence, especially when it had been her suggestion to meet for breakfast."_

Well, there was one place she couldn't avoid him. As much as he loathed using his position to deal with their relationship, being captain had some perks… and he wasn't above using them. _"__I'll just have to talk to her in my ready room,"_ he resolved firmly.

He was almost to his cabin when he saw a quick flash of color out of the corner of his eye. Following it down the corridor, what he saw ripped his heart out. The color that had caught his eye was one of Trip's bright shirts… and the engineer had his arm resting snugly around the waist of a woman who could only be T'Pol.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he keyed in his entry code and walked into his quarters. With painful deliberation, he removed every article of clothing from his body and drifted into the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as he could stand it.

It only took a few seconds of the water beating on his back to allow his tears to come. Little things he'd seen in the last 24 hours flashed across his memory, starting with her confusion and fear as she'd almost ran from his quarters the night before and ending with his best friend's arm wrapped around the woman he loved.

Oh yes, there had been other clues, he realized bitterly, seeing everything clearly now. The way Trip was grinning from ear to ear at breakfast this morning, like the cat in the cream. Or how every time he'd looked up at her today, her gaze had skittered away.

"There were clues all right," he muttered, seeking anger as a solace. "I was just too damn in love with her to see them."

Well, if this was what she wanted, he wouldn't stop her. He loved her too much for that too. He did feel like he deserved an answer though, so the next morning he followed through on his original plan, even though the reasoning had changed.

"T'Pol, could you please join me in my ready room?" he requested the instant she stepped onto the bridge.

He kept his tone polite and his features carefully blank until the door shut behind them, not wanting gossip to begin circling about their relationship. But once they were safe from all prying eyes and ears, the mask dropped and he let her see the anger he still carried about like a shield.

"I waited for you yesterday morning," he said, his voice deceptively mild. "You never came."

"I was… unable to make it," she said, shifting slightly under his intense stare.

"I see. I was hoping that maybe we could talk after dinner, but you didn't come then either," he continued.

"I chose to eat in my quarters."

"Funny thing, Trip didn't come to dinner either," he commented, almost nonchalantly, catching the way she flinched against her words. He waited for her to come clean, and when she didn't, his anger grew even more. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here T'Pol?" he demanded, all traces of calm disappeared.

"I have decided that what happened the other night was a… mistake," she stated baldly, looking him in the eye and challenging him to disagree with her.

"You want to think it's a mistake, that's fine by me," he replied bitterly. "But next time, just tell a guy first before he sees you all cozied up with his best friend right outside of his own quarters, okay? Twist the knife a little softer, why don't you?"

A picture of what must have happened the night before slowly appeared to T'Pol, and she blanched slightly from the emotion it drew. She saw him, reaching his quarters just as she and Trip had walked past. She saw Trip's arm around her waist, and her leaning slightly into his embrace as they continued down the hall, laughing slightly with each other at the mutual enjoyment they shared.

In perfect, living, color she saw every detail, and she could see in his face how much it hurt him. "Jonathan…"

"Don't call me that," he ordered, almost violently, shaking from the pain he felt hearing her speak his name again.

She reeled back in surprise, finding that the human soul had yet another depth of emotion she was unaware of. "I am sorry," she said softly, feeling her heart ache for him and yet still not knowing what to do about it.

He sighed, turning away from her in a vain attempt to conceal the emotion she had already seen. "I know you are," he admitted. "I know you well enough to know that you didn't intend to play the two of us off each other, and I know that whatever you felt the other night was just as real as what I felt. But…"

He paused, turning back so she could see how much he meant what he was about to say. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you," he told her in a low voice.

The sudden, sharp rush of pain came out of nowhere. "I see," she said, managing to curb all the emotional responses she wanted to give. "May I be excused sir? I need to see to my duties."

"Yes."

He stared at her back as she moved toward the door, remembering one other thing that needed to be said. "T'Pol."

She stopped when she heard her name, but did not turn. Her emotions were hidden well enough that the rest of the crew would not see them, but this man knew her too well.

When he saw that he had her attention, he said, "We won't talk about this again."

The finality of the words and tone was a vicious assault on her control. Taking a deep breath to stop all the things she wanted to say, she nodded slightly and stepped onto the bridge.

Her mind told her that it was his pain speaking, that if she had been hurt the way he had been, that she would be saying the same things. Her mind knew that, but her heart did not. Feeling an aching void where his friendship had been, all her heart knew was the injustice of what he was saying.

_"__That is not fair!" _her heart cried as she took her usual spot standing directly behind the captain's chair. _"__He did not even give me a chance to explain! He does not know this is truly for his benefit."_

She paused for a moment, remembering the pain she had seen in his eyes, letting it wash over her and mingle with her own. _"These emotions, this pain… it is almost too much,"_ she realized, gasping mentally from the weight of it. _"Perhaps I am not being fair to him either, perhaps he could not let himself listen to my reasons, perhaps hearing anything from me would have hurt even more."_

All this was a silent exchange with herself. What the crew saw when she joined them was a calm, rational Vulcan. They did not see the passion bubbling under the surface, or the pain lurking in her eyes. They did not see, for they did not know the emotions she carried inside her.

There was one who did however, and when he left his ready room, he could feel the pain and confusion rolling off of her in waves. It was there, and he knew why it was there, but he could not do anything about it. Knowing that she was hurting and knowing that he was part of the reason intensified his own anguish.

He met her eyes briefly, just long enough for her to see that he had felt what she was feeling. Knowing that he knew was enough for her; explanations would not help today, they might never help. Being understood was all she could hope for, and it was more than she deserved. Tamping down her heart ache, she strove for a calm that had not been with her for weeks.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she pulled strength from somewhere deep inside herself and managed to lay all the hurt aside to do her job, and let him do his. Once again, he was amazed at her capacity for dealing with intense emotion, and he mourned the fact that she had not been able to deal with what she had felt during the kiss.

For somehow, he sensed that was what had happened. He had felt her response for a brief instant, and then she had fled. Whether the emotions had confused her or frightened her he did not know, but the result was the same. She had run, seeking something safer, something more familiar.

He smiled slightly, a tense smile that does nothing to hide the true emotion inside. Maybe he should feel better, knowing that she had sought Trip not because her feelings for him were stronger or more real, but because they were safe.

Shaking his head, he realized he was not ready to be that forgiving yet. Someday he might be, but not today. Today all he could know, all he could feel, was that she had left his side and gone directly to another man. The fact that it was his best friend only intensified the feeling of betrayal.

Betrayal. What right did he have to feel that? There had been no promises made, no commitments created. All he had was the pledge his heart had made to her, and the knowledge that there would be no other woman for him. That was all, but that was enough.

The instant her lips had met his, his heart had taken the one gesture to mean a whole host of emotions on her part. He had credited her with feelings she had not claimed and had made promises in her name that she had not stated. Despite the fact that it had all apparently been in his imagination, those promises had been broken and the sense of betrayal would not go away, no matter how many times he told himself it was illogical.

But now that the air between them was clear, he could begin the work of repairing his life and his heart. It was time to put her out of his mind, to let go of the feelings he had held so close for so long. Nothing would ever come of them, and no good could come from hanging onto them when he knew they were not returned.

It would take time, but he could return to the man he was when Enterprise first launched. He could again be the captain who was married to his ship, who did not feel the need for love and marriage. Another shattered relationship on his record just proved that those things were not in the cards for him.

For now, he would shove aside the deeply felt truth that he wanted those things, that he had wanted them for a while now, and that he wanted them with her. He would deny those things to himself, pretend that they did not exist. He would force himself to be content with only what he had, and perhaps someday, he would forget he had ever wanted anything else.

Until then, he would ignore the stab of pain he felt every time he saw her, the answering hurt he had seen in her eyes. Feeling sympathy for her, feeling anything for her, it was too dangerous. It would have to stop. And until it did, he would simply pretend it had.


	9. 9

**Chapter 9:**

"I don't get women," Trip muttered, walking back to his cabin. "Here I thought she'd be all happy to spend the evening together, but no… 'I need to spend some time meditating, Commander,' she says, all formal-like. Commander? For crying out loud! We've been dating for more than two months! She hardly calls me Commander when we're on the bridge, and now she's doing it when we're in her quarters? What's up with this?"

Something was definitely not quite right with his Vulcan, and there was only one person he could think of that might be able to explain it to him. "The cap'n seems to understand her better than most of us… maybe he'll have some answers for me. And if he doesn't, we can just sit around drinking and talking about how we don't understand women," he added with a grin, changing course and heading for Jon's cabin.

"Hello Trip, is there anything I can do for you?" Jon asked, not moving from the door to let him in.

Trip frowned. He'd thought the formality in his girlfriend's tone was odd, but at least she had her Vulcan heritage to explain it. But Jon—his best friend Jon—had never been this aloof with anyone, unless he was upset with them.

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "You could start by telling me what I've done to piss people off lately."

Jon bit back the curt response that came automatically. It wasn't Trip's fault the woman Jon loved had chosen him instead; in fact, he probably didn't even know anyone else cared for T'Pol. "I'm sorry Trip," he said contritely, trying to put a tone of friendship in his voice. "It's just been a long day, I didn't mean to sound unwelcoming. Come on in and have a seat," he offered, stepping away from the door.

"Thanks," Trip replied, still puzzled by the cool reception he'd received but willing to accept the explanation Jon had given.

"So, is someone else upset with you right now?" Jon questioned, having caught the use of the plural in Trip's earlier request.

"Well, I don't know if she's upset with me… but T'Pol's been acting awfully strange lately," Trip answered.

Jon willed himself not to stiffen at her name. The sharp pain he'd felt when she'd chosen Trip had faded into a dull ache, but he still wasn't sure he was ready to listen to Trip's relationship woes. "Strange? How so?" he asked neutrally.

"She's running hot and cold—one minute she wants to be with me all the time, and she gets upset if I have to work extra, even though she knows that sometimes long hours come with the territory, and then tonight I went over to her quarters and she told me she needed time to meditate. Meditate! I thought she'd want to us to spend time together, since she keeps talking about how I'm never available, but she wanted to meditate!"

"Well, you know meditation is important to a Vulcan's mental health," Jon reminded him, trying to calm him down a little.

"Yeah, but she called me Commander—not Trip." More than her attitude, this was what was bothering him. To be called by rank…

"That is your rank you know," Jon teased.

Trip shot him a glare, letting him know he wasn't in the mood for jokes. "Jon."

"I know, I know," Jon ceded, acknowledging the point Trip was trying to make. "It isn't what you'd expect from your girlfriend."

"Not exactly. I mean, did Caroline go around calling you Commander while you two were dating?"

"Only when she was upset with me," Jon said dryly, recalling some of the rockier moments in his longest relationship to date.

"And that's what I'm saying!" Trip exclaimed, rising from his seat to pace. "Why's she upset with me? She knows I have an important job, surely she's not really angry that I can't spend more time with her. And if she is, then how come she turned me away when I could?"

"Sounds like a typically finicky woman to me," Jon jibed, letting a little of his bitterness out.

"But Vulcans aren't supposed to be finicky," Trip protested. "It's not logical."

At the word logical, Jon finally sat up and took notice. He'd only truly been giving Trip half his attention—he wanted to be there for his friend, but it was just too painful listening to him complain about the relationship Jon wanted for himself.

But if T'Pol wasn't acting logical… there was only one explanation for that. Unfortunately, it wasn't one he could give him without breaking her confidence, and despite how much she'd hurt him, he wouldn't do that to her.

"Have you talked to her about it all?" he asked cautiously.

"Nah... I guess up till now I haven't had the time to really notice how moody she's gotten. It's just that now that I realize, I don't get it. Do you have any clue what's going on with her? I thought you might, since you kinda understand her better than most of us."

It was hard to deny the pleading look on his best friend's face, but Jon stood firm. "I might have some idea, but you really need to talk to T'Pol about it. Second hand information is no substitute for a face to face talk."

"But she doesn't want to spend any time with me!" Trip argued. "How am I supposed to ask her if she won't stay in a room with me for longer than 10 minutes?"

"Tell her you need to talk, tell her it's important. She'll stay if you phrase it like that," Jon told him.

"Are you sure?" Trip asked skeptically.

"Trust me," he promised.

"You seem to have some experience with this."

It was a credit to Jon's ability to mask his feelings that even though Trip was watching him closely, he didn't catch the pain that flickered across his face. He had experience all right, and it wasn't something he liked to think about. "I had to nail her down one time when I had something to tell her. It worked for me, it'll work for you. After all, she's in love with you—isn't she?"

Asking that question killed him. He lived every day with the fear that Trip would come bounding into the captain's mess for breakfast, unable to contain his excitement as he said, "Cap'n, guess what! Me 'n T'Pol are gettin' married!" Truly, he didn't want a confirmation of her feelings for Trip, but as his best friend, it was a question he had to ask.

"I guess so… I'll try it anyway," Trip said doubtfully, moving to the door.

"Let me know if it works," Jon requested, rising to escort him out.

"You bet."

Trip stared at the door for a moment, puzzled by his friend's behavior. _"__Something there isn't right either,"_ he realized. _"__I just can't put my finger on what it is… but one thing's for sure: he knows more about T'Pol than he's tellin'. I guess I'll have to do this his way and go ask her about it… if she'll even talk to me," _he mused, walking briskly down the corridor.

"Who is it?" T'Pol asked when her door chime rang.

"It's me," Trip replied, girding up his courage for her inevitable rebuff.

"I told you I didn't want to see you tonight Trip," she said, agitated.

"Yeah I know… I think we need to talk though," he insisted. "It's important."

"Very well, you may come in," she said resignedly.

"Don't be so enthusiastic," he told her as the door opened.

"I was not aware enthusiasm was required for this discussion," she said snippily, not rising from her seat on the floor. "If it is, perhaps you'd better come back another time."

Trip raised an eyebrow in surprise as he sat down in front of her. "Sarcasm doesn't really suit you," he commented, eyeing her response.

"Your opinion is noted. Now, what did you want to talk about?" she asked brusquely.

"I wanna talk about this," he said, gesturing to the space between them.

"What exactly is this?" she questioned, being purposely obtuse.

"This!" he exclaimed. "The distance between us, how you won't even talk to me. I don't get it, what's wrong with you?"

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. "I did not know anything was wrong, but if you find me so lacking, perhaps you would be happier with another woman," she suggested irritably.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he said, holding his hands up in front of him. "I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. Besides, who said anything about me finding you lacking? Look, I think you're great T'Pol, you know that. I've been halfway in love with you for a while, and all the stuff we've experienced together in the last year just really brought that out, in both of us I think. I just feel like you're keeping something from me, and I can't do a relationship with you unless I know what it is."

He paused, looking at her to see if he was getting through. Instead of softening though, her expression was still stony, and he sighed in frustration. "T'Pol, a relationship has to be based on trust," he reminded her gently.

The word trust hit her hard. The complete advice she had given herself had been haunting her for almost a week now, and she had realized that she had not truly trusted Trip with anything. Perhaps now was her chance to do so, perhaps her older self had been right, perhaps he could help her with her emotions if she truly trusted him.

"You are right, there is something between us, something I have not shared with you," she admitted. "I have had… some medical issues lately, and I did not know how to bring it up with you."

"Is it serious?" he asked, immediately concerned.

"No, it is nothing serious… nor is it physical. I have been less able to control my emotions."

"So I've noticed," he muttered.

"Do you remember what happened when I was exposed to the Trellium on the Seleya?" she asked.

"Yeah, you went all crazy… your emotions were just kinda all over the place."

"All over the place'," she quoted. "Yes, that would be a good description of it. While my reasoning was still slightly impaired, I decided that I could help the crew if I became immune to the effect it had on me. Captain Archer would not protect Enterprise with it as long as it was dangerous for me, and he would not leave me behind somewhere for the welfare of the ship. I felt… I felt like a burden to the crew, keeping them from a small measure of safety the Trellium would have provided. I did not like the sensation, and I could not wait until Dr. Phlox discovered an inoculation.

"Instead, I sought one myself. With some poisons, it is possible to become immune by ingesting small doses, gradually upping the amount until no amount will harm your system. With that as my plan, I snuck into the cargo bay and stole a chunk of Trellium. I found a way to purify it, and I injected it into my system."

"Wait a minute!" Trip said, holding up his hands. "Are you telling me you've been taking Trellium-D willingly? Something you know can kill you?"

"That is correct," she agreed. "Afterwards, I discovered that certain emotions were quite… pleasant. I decided that I wanted more of them. For a while, the only emotions I experienced were the positive ones. Then others began to creep in, such as fear. I did not realize until the events at Azati Prime that I had become addicted to the substance."

"Right… because you couldn't get to the cargo bay," he said, trying to take in all she had said. To think that a Vulcan would willingly do something to feel emotion… it was mind boggling. There was just too much to take in.

"So what you're saying is, you were pretty much on an emotional high half the time we were in the Expanse," he said slowly, trying to piece it together.

"That's a crude way of putting it, but I suppose it works," she said unhappily.

Trip nodded, thinking everything through. "Wait a minute!" he said. "Were you on Trellium the time we slept together?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"I was," she affirmed. "I was not high, as you put it, but it is logical to assume it was still present in my bloodstream."

"And then the next day you said it had just been an experiment… do you know how much that hurt?" he demanded.

"Truly? No." Once again, the things that hurt a human were surprising her. In truth, she had known her words would hurt him some, but she had not realized to what extent… just as it had been with Jonathan.

Shoving thoughts of the captain aside, she forced herself to listen to what Trip was saying. "Well, it hurt a lot. A whole lot. Here I'd thought we'd just shared something, that maybe we were starting something, and then you came off with a comment like that. So tell me T'Pol, which was real? Were we real, and the emotions of it just scared you so you had to back off? Or were you so appalled by the thought that you'd just slept with a human that you had to find some way to break it off?"

"I…"

"No," he said, cutting her off, "You don't need to answer that. Your own words answer it for you. It was just an experiment you said… just like your experiment with emotions. I was just your willing test subject, like some kind of lab rat or something."

The words he was saying hurt almost as much as the truth they contained. She had used him, badly, and she knew that now. It had not been her intent however, and she was desperate for him to see that, not wanting him to leave. "Trip, you are over reacting!"

"How can you say that T'Pol? Do you know how I'm feeling right now? You know… I heard that when the cap'n met you, he said you had no idea how much he was restraining himself from knocking you on your ass. Right now, I'm feeling about the same way."

"Yes, and the captain felt the same way when he learned about the Trellium too, but once he realized…"

"He knows? The cap'n knows that my girl was messing around with drugs the whole time we were gettin' closer? If we're a couple, how come he knew before I did T'Pol?"

"As the captain, it was important for him to know anything about his crew that might affect their performance," she answered quietly.

"Ah, so he knew the whole time and just let you keep shooting up? I don't think so," Trip said, shaking his head.

"No, he only found out recently… shortly before you and I started our relationship the second time."

"Ah… Tell me something. Did you think about testing your newfound emotions on him?"

Trip took one look at the way T'Pol glanced away, unwilling to answer his question, and he knew she had. "You did, didn't you? And then either he turned you down, or you changed your mind. After all, why go after the cap'n when there's someone else onboard that's already proven to be an easy mark. So what am I, your ready and willing volunteer? Oh but wait, I'd have to know what was going on to volunteer, now wouldn't I? No, I'm just the poor dupe who fell in love with you… and was stupid enough to think you felt the same."

"Trip wait!" she begged, watching helplessly as he strode angrily toward the door. "You are not being fair," she pleaded, desperate to keep him there. She had already alienated the captain, if Trip left she would have no outlet for her emotions.

"I'm not being fair?" he questioned incredulously, whirling around to face her. "You've gotta be kidding me! You used me, and now you're sayin' that I'm not being fair? Well that's just tough, _Sub-commander_, because I'm not gonna be here for you any longer. You'll just have to get yourself out of this mess."

"But I do not know how!" she admitted, overwhelmed by the discussion.

Trip took in her confusion and fear, and his expression softened slightly. "And I'm sorry, truly I am. I'm guessin' you didn't think any of this would turn out like this, but I just can't be with you anymore, I would never know if it was real."

"We could try to make it real," she suggested desperately.

He shook his head slowly, saying, "No, our chance is up. I've got an idea though… why don't you think about why you told the captain about all this before you told me. That might help you out some," he told her, walking about of the cabin and letting the door shut behind him.


	10. 10

**Chapter 10:**

_"I've got an idea though… why don't you think about why you told the captain about all this before you told me."_

Three hours later, Trip's words were still ringing in T'Pol's ears. She knew he had a valid point, she knew that her reasoning for this had been faulty. If she had told the captain for purely professional reasons, she would have done so much sooner. There had been something else that motivated her, she simply did not want to think about what it might have been.

_"I did not bring it up myself," _she insisted. _"__He inquired after my well-being, in light of certain things he had noticed in my demeanor. I was simply answering the questions he asked."_ She purposely ignored the fact that if she hadn't done things that made him wonder, he never would have asked, and her secret would still be safe.

_"It was only to be expected that I would be upset at the loss of my captain," _she reminded herself, trying to justify the emotional upheaval she had experienced at that time, the need to have something of his nearby that had driven him to ask what was wrong with her.

There was something to what Trip had said, but she simply did not want to admit it. A year ago, she had been on the verge of realizing the connection between herself and her captain, but now… so many things had happened. Trip had happened. She had never anticipated it, but it had been… mostly pleasant.

_"As was the kiss you shared with Jonathan,"_ her conscience reminded her, refusing to stay silent. _"You cannot deny the rush of emotions you felt when your lips touched his,"_ it said, taunting her with the memories it dredged up.

She shook them off, but she could not get easily rid herself of the questions they raised. Was there something still between Jonathan and herself? Is that why she had clung to his belongings when she had believed he was dead, and why she had willingly told him about the Trellium when the conversation arose?

More to the point, was that why she had kissed him? Were the emotions she had felt that evening of a romantic variety? Were they real, and did they still exist?

For three hours, these thoughts had been rotating through her head, and she was no closer to an answer now than she had been then. But one thing had become clear: no matter how much she might care for Jonathan, she was in no position to begin a relationship right now.

Her reaction when Trip had ended their romance embarrassed her, as she thought back on it. She had been so desperate to not be alone that she had actually begged him not to leave her. That was a sure sign that she needed to be alone, despite the advice her older self had given her.

The advice had been good, but her question had been equally valid. Her heart did not know what it wanted, and she could not follow it until that changed. Trying to do so had been folly. _"Instead of trusting my own instincts, I turned to an easy outlet for my emotions. I will not make that mistake again," _she vowed. She needed to know that she could heal, without using a romance as a crutch.

In the last six months, that was exactly what she had done. She remembered how Jonathan had urged her to find new ways to manage her emotions, to meld this new part of her into her Vulcan personality. Instead, she had taken the easy way out by allowing herself to simply be swept away by the feelings. She had not controlled them at all, they had controlled her—just as he had done when they had been in the Expanse.

She was ready now to take that control back. The emotional ride she had been on of late had been titillating, but in the end it had not been satisfying. She wanted to learn how to be both Vulcan and emotional, and she could not do that by simply allowing every emotion she felt to rush through her like an ocean wave.

_"Then why are you standing in the corridor outside of the captain's quarters, prepared to tell him your relationship with Trip is over?"_ she questioned herself, doubting her own motives. _"Are you perhaps here to suggest a relationship with him?"_

But even as she asked herself that question, she knew it wasn't true. _"I want him to know that I am attempting to repair the damage I have done, to all my relationships. In light of the emotional pain I caused him earlier, I believe he has a right to know that I am taking steps to overcome my weaknesses in this area."_

Gathering her courage, she pressed the bell, leaning into it slightly.

"Come in," he said in response to the chime.

"Good evening Captain," she said quietly, stepping inside and crossing her arms behind her back.

"T'Pol," he said shortly, barely looking up from the book he was reading as he lay sprawled out on the couch.

"Some things have happened in the last few days which I thought I should inform you of… I remember you requesting that I not leave you out of the loop again."

He did look up at her then, worry overriding his desire to be aloof. "Are you sick?"

"No, I am well, thank you."

His concern alleviated, he quickly picked his coolness back up. "Then what did you want to tell me?"

"Commander Tucker and I have decided to end our relationship."

Of all the things he had expected her to say, that hadn't even been on the list. His mouth gaped open for a moment, as he was completely unsure how she expected him to respond to that. "I see…" he floundered, searching for something reassuring to say. "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to patch things up again. Third time's the charm after all," he told her, forcing a smile and a light tone.

"I do not believe that will be happening," she countered, and he couldn't help but notice that she did not seem upset by the thought. Ruthlessly squashing the hope he couldn't help but feel with that realization, he paid attention to the rest of her speech, and instantly wished he hadn't. "He was most distressed to learn that our initial coupling was affected by Trellium."

Jon couldn't keep himself from wincing when she said coupling. "Well hell T'Pol!" he exclaimed, tossing the book down on the bed and standing up quickly. "What did you expect, a bunch of flowers? Maybe for him to be grateful that you'd thought enough of him to go get drugged up enough to sleep with him? No man likes to think that the only reason a woman is attracted to him is because she's drunk or high. We want the real them to want the real us—or don't you Vulcans get that?" he asked sarcastically.

She listened to his short rant without blinking, willingly accepting his anger and understanding the reasons behind it. "I understand it, and after a little thought I have agreed with some other things he said," she replied evenly, refusing to give him more ammunition to use against her be railing back at him. _"And all the things he is saying are true," _she admitted to herself. _"I deserve all he is giving, and more."_

Rolling his eyes in disbelief, he came back with, "And what might those be, pray tell?"

"That there are some things I need to… figure out before being a part of any couple. I turned my life inside out in the last year, and I need to put it back together, by myself."

"Really?" he asked, arching a brow. The question was asked with heavy sarcasm, but in truth, he really wanted to know the answer. _"Our relationship may have been dead in the water before it started, but I still want her to be happy… she needs to find the part of herself that she lost before that can happen."_

"Yes. I believe that I was merely… using the relationship I enjoyed with Commander Tucker to avoid truly dealing with the fallout from my experiences with Trellium. It was unwise of me, but at the time, I did not see that there was another way."

Inwardly pleased, he still affected an aura of disinterest that bordered on derision. "I see… and was there anything else you wanted to share, or was it simply your version of substance abuse counseling?"

"That was all," she told him, shaming him with her calm acceptance of his negative attitude. "I will see you on the bridge tomorrow, as usual," she said, opening the door and stepping out of his quarters.

She was gone before he could say anything else, before he could tell her that he truly hoped she could put herself back together. Jon stared at the door, wondering at the encounter he'd just had. _"Was I too harsh on her?"_ he questioned himself. _"She finally seems willing to work through the emotional fallout from the Trellium, instead of expending it or wishing it away… maybe I should have been supportive of that."_

After a moment though, he shook his head, his cynicism getting the better of him. _"She didn't just come here to let me know that she actually realizes what she needs to do now,"_ he told himself. _"She came with the express purpose of telling me that her fling with Trip is over… and there's only one reason she'd want to do that," _he thought. _"Well T'Pol, if you're waiting for me decide I want you know, you'll have a long wait coming." _

True, she had also said she wasn't ready for a relationship right now, but she was testing the waters, seeing if he was still interested… seeing if there was still a chance between them. _"I just can't go down that road again,"_ he told himself, ignoring the hope that flared up within him. _"Whoever said that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all had clearly never lost. It hurts like hell, and I'll be damned if I'll let myself in for that kind of pain a second time. I'm not that idealistic anymore."_

He laughed humorlessly as he picked up the book again, searching for the page he'd been on before he was interrupted. When he'd re-read the same paragraph for the fourth time, he tossed it down again and left his quarters, disgusted by his lack of concentration.

_"I'm letting her get under my skin again,"_ he realized in frustration, stalking the halls like a jealous lover. _"She's not dating Trip anymore, and that's all I can think about… I'm like some lovesick teenager, and it's ridiculous! I know a relationship with her is out of the question; no matter how much I want it, it would just hurt too much. I've got to get her out of my mind,"_ he concluded grimly, stepping into the dimly lit mess.

Though he had been hoping for a quiet, solitary drink, he wasn't surprised to see someone else already at the bar, with a bottle of scotch in front of him. "Single malt?" he asked Trip, sitting down next to him.

"You bet," his friend replied, pouring him a glass. "What're you in for?" he asked, sliding the glass down the bar as Jon sat down.

He tossed it back quickly, holding it out for another before answering. "Ah, just the usual…" he answered after drinking that one too. "Long day, too much to do tomorrow…"

"Women?" Trip guessed, eyeing Jon's reaction and pouring both of them another drink.

"Women?" Jon snorted. "Do you think I have time for women as a starship captain? Let me tell you Trip, if you want a normal life, with a wife and family, don't ask for your own command. It's more trouble than it's worth."

Trip smirked and said, "Yep, women troubles… me too."

"So I heard," Jon muttered, swallowing his scotch.

"Ah, she already came to tell you? That doesn't surprise me," Trip mused, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"Yeah, it's part of our new "let's tell the captain the things he should know" policy," Jon explained, the alcohol already affecting him as it hit his empty stomach. "Funny how it works, I actually find out things about my crew now. For instance, did you know Crewman Walters' father died last week?"

"No… I guess we're too far for him to go home," Trip said in a lame attempt to add humor to the conversation.

Jon nodded sagely, pouring another glass of scotch and drinking it quickly. "Of course, but he was really torn up about it when he found out… I gave him the rest of the day off. Just the day… if we were on Earth, he would have gotten at least two days, enough time to go to the funeral… but I wanted to make sure he was capable of doing his job."

"Good point. I don't think that's why she told you though," Trip said mildly.

"Why who told me what?" Jon asked hazily, already losing his ability to hold a train of thought.

"Why T'Pol told you about our failed attempt at a relationship," Trip expounded, the alcohol making him maudlin.

"And why do you think she told me again?"

"There's something between the two of you," Trip said, gesturing at the air between himself and the captain. "It's like… just there," he added, fully expecting to be understood.

"Ah yes, the Captain and the Vulcan subplot. Because we all know she's madly in love with me," Jon said sarcastically, still sober enough to hide the truth behind the words. _"Or rather the truth from the other perspective,"_ he amended. _"She doesn't love me, it's the other way around."_

"Well, she did try her emotions out on you earlier, didn't she Jon?" Trip countered, upset enough about the things he'd learned not to hear the pain lurking in Jon's voice.

Jon sat up straight, surprised by the sudden confrontation. "Did she tell you that?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably. He couldn't think of anyone on the ship who he would less want to know about his abbreviated relationship with the Vulcan.

"Nah… I kinda figured it out for myself. And she told you about the Trellium first. She didn't tell me, and we were dating the whole time! Or whatever you want to call it… so now I'm sitting here wondering if any of our relationship was real, or if it was all just some delusion produced by her drugged up mind."

"Women. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em out the torpedo tube," Jon said, grabbing the bottle and putting it away.

"Malcolm would love that," Trip said with a grin.

"That he would… Ah, can you picture it? Life on a starship with no women… millions of light-years away from any of the ones at home."

"We could wear the same uniform two, three days in a row."

"No one asking for girly movies at movie night."

"No backstabbing, cheating, betrayal…" Jon barely stopped himself before saying anything that would tell Trip how he felt about T'Pol. This was his night to be upset about being dumped, even though he had ended the relationship, not the other way around. It wasn't the time for him to learn that the whole time he'd been dating T'Pol, someone else had been in love with her.

"Come on my friend, we have work tomorrow," he said, walking toward the door a little unsteadily. "The all important job of running a starship, remember? Hearth and home, what are those? Instead we have hull plating and crew quarters."

"I'm sensing some bitterness there Captain," Trip jibed, walking beside his friend as they left the mess.

"Bitter? Me? Just because everyone else gets to have a life and I don't? Nah, why should I be bitter?"

"Well then old friend, you and me can be bitter together. You have no life and mine just got turned upside down."

"Women," Jon muttered.

"Yeah, they're just not worth it," Trip agreed.


	11. 11

**Chapter 11:**

T'Pol rocked back and forth on her heels, unsure if this was a wise course of action. _"I should be able to make this decision by myself," _she chided herself. _"I should not need advice from Commander Tucker, or anyone else."_

She stared at the call button outside his door, her hand poised to push it. Making a quick decision, she did so and sat back to wait. _"Perhaps I should be able to do this without help, but since I cannot, it would be illogical to try,"_ she reminded herself. One of the things she'd had to learn over the last few months was that while she did need to work primarily alone to integrate her emotions into her character, it did not make sense to turn down assistance when it was offered, or to not seek it when it was necessary. For someone who valued her privacy at almost any cost, it had been difficult to accept.

"Just a sec!" Trip called from the bathroom when his doorbell rang, rubbing his face dry. Tossing the towel on his bed, he quickly pulled on a clean shirt before opening the door. "What's up?" he asked, surprised to see T'Pol outside his quarters and suddenly grateful that he'd taken time to shower and change after work today. She didn't mention it much, but he knew it bothered her to see anyone grungy and dirty.

She took note of his clean attire but did not comment on it. "May I speak with you Commander?" she asked. Their friendship was returning gradually, but she was uncertain how he would react to what she had to say. Would he be glad, or would he try to stop her?

"Sure," he said, stepping back to allow her to walk in. "So, ya have somethin' on your mind?" he asked, noticed the way her hands were laced tightly in front of herself.

"Yes, but I am unsure how to express it," she told him honestly. Honesty was another habit she'd had to develop recently. The only way anyone could ever understand what you were feeling was if you told them—the old Vulcan patterns of denial and repression no longer worked.

Trip pulled over a chair for her and sat down himself, taking a moment to really look at her. _"Something's really bugging her,"_ he thought, noticing the way she looked straight ahead, refusing to really meet his gaze. "T'Pol, we're friends. Why don't ya just say whatever is bothering ya, straight out?" he suggested gently, suppressing the urge to place his hand on her shoulder. One thing he had learned over the last few months was that when she had something on her mind, it was best not to touch her, since that just distracted her.

"Very well," she agreed, taking the seat he had indicated. "I am considering asking for a transfer back to Vulcan," she said in a rush.

"Back to… but I thought they wouldn't take you back," he said, confused.

She gave him an ironic smile, still slightly bemused by the illogical responses she had received when asking if she would be accepted back into the Science Directorate. "I have done some inquiring, and it seems they are willing to overlook my behavior, based on the results it received," she explained.

"Okay then… but why would ya want to leave Enterprise? I thought you were starting to enjoy being here with all us humans," he said, attempting to get a small smile out of her.

Instead, she looked away and said, "I am not sure the humans all enjoy being with me any longer."

The instant it was out of her mouth, she regretted it. _"I sound… needy," _she thought, feeling degraded by her own emotions. _"I did not want to tell him all of what has happened, but now…"_

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply, interrupting her train of thought and proving her assumption correct. He would not let this alone until he learned what was going on. "Is someone making you feel unwelcome?" he interrogated.

She sighed, realizing she was not going to be able to get around this conversation. This was the reason she had been unsure if she wanted to discuss this with Commander Tucker, but the fact remained that he was her closest friend on board, after the captain, who was going out of his way to avoid her. "Captain Archer has been… upset with me lately. My work does not seem to be up to his standards, and…"

"That's just ridiculous!" he argued, pounding his fists on the table in front of him. "He knows no one else could do your job as well as you!"

"That may be the cold fact Commander, but he does not seem happy to have me here," she explained bluntly. "I can understand it in part, there are things you do not know… he does have reasons," she said, not wanting him to know everything that had happened between her and the captain. "Despite that, I do not feel like working for someone who does not trust me," she added with a touch of pique. "I believe it would be best for all concerned if I left and the captain found someone he could work with more easily."

"T'Pol, you aren't going anywhere," he insisted. "Trust me, he doesn't want you leave…"

"You are far more certain of that than I," she told him, thinking back on the cold, professional distance Jon had kept between them since she'd told him that her relationship with Trip was over.

Trip shook his head, certain she had to be over reacting. _"One thing about Vulcans with emotions,"_ he thought with a touch of amusement. _"They never do anything halfway… if they're mad, they're furious, and if they're feelin' left out, then the whole world must be out to get them." _

"Tell ya what, I'll talk to him, see if I can figure out what's going on," he suggested.

She recoiled instantly. This was unexpected, and unwanted. The last thing she wanted was for Commander Tucker to discuss this with the captain, and give him more reason to believe she was completely ruled by emotion. "No! That is… that would not be necessary."

He gaped at her, shocked by her vehement refusal. "Okay, if that's the way you want it…"

"It is," she said firmly, leaving no doubt as to her wishes.

"All right then… just… don't leave, okay?" he requested. "We may not be an item anymore, you and I, but I sure would miss your company," he told her sincerely.

"I appreciate the sentiment Commander," she said, nodding slightly. "I will take more time to consider it," she allowed, standing up and moving toward the door.

"I guess I can't ask for anything more than that," he said, disappointed that she wouldn't promise to stay and yet understanding why she didn't feel like she could.

"Thank you for listening to me Trip," she said as she left.

"No problem. We're friends, you can come talk to me anytime."

His smile disappeared as soon as she was gone. "What is goin' on around here?" he muttered, flopping down on his bed. "I know the cap'n doesn't want her to leave, what could make her think that? Maybe she's just over-reacting or something…"

The next day, he knew she wasn't. Curious to see what she was talking about, he found some excuse to spend time on the bridge, and within ten minutes, he understood why she felt unwelcome.

"T'Pol, is there anything interesting in the next system?" Jon asked, staring out the view screen instead of looking up at her.

"There appears to be a ­­­­­­­­­­ Captain," she told him, looking at the scans she was taking.

"What kind?" he asked.

"I really could not say," she told him quietly.

"Fine," he replied shortly. "Let me know when you have something solid to give me."

Trip's jaw dropped in astonishment. It wasn't the words that shocked him, though they were unusual too. It was the coldness in his tone, the utter lack of friendship and camaraderie. They had been close before, but now all that was left was the relationship between a captain and his first officer, and that just wasn't cutting it.

Looking around the bridge, he realized this had been going on for some time. No one else seemed surprised by his attitude. In fact, it looked like they didn't even notice it anymore. Shaking his head, Trip decided that no matter what T'Pol wanted, he was going to try to fix this for her.

"Cap'n, can I talk to you for a moment?" he requested.

"Sure Trip," Jon said easily, and the dramatic shift in tone did not go unnoticed by Trip.

Neither did the fact that T'Pol was currently glaring at him, clearly not wanting him to talk to the captain. Trip shot her a grin, letting her know he was going to do exactly what she thought he was going to do, and she couldn't stop him.

He waited a few beats after they walked into the ready room together, getting his thoughts together. Something was wrong with his friend, very very wrong, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"What's the problem with you?" he began, almost angrily.

"What? What are you talking about?" Jon asked, confused by the emotion he saw in his best friend's expression.

"The way you treated T'Pol just now, like she was only some hired hand, there to give you information and bring you your slippers! What do you think you're doing?"

"You think she'd bring me my slippers?" Jon asked, trying to distract him.

"That's not what I'm talkin' about, and you know it!" Trip told him, waving his hands at him. "What is goin' on out there?" he demanded again.

"Watch your tone Commander," Jon warned, standing behind the desk watching the stars.

"The hell I will! I'm not in here to talk to my captain, and you know it! Jon, things out there on the bridge are worse than they were in our first few weeks out in space. Back then, it was like you can't help but bait T'Pol. You grew out of that though, and you two became real friends. Now you're just acting like… like… I don't know what you're acting like, but whatever it is, it isn't working! Are you tryin' to force her into a breakdown?" he probed, not understanding what he had seen.

"I'm trying to act like a captain!" Jon exploded, turning away from the stars, his eyes blazing with repressed anger. In the weeks since T'Pol had come to his quarters with her odd announcement, he'd been frustrated at her progress. He'd needed to believe this attempt on her part to control her emotions wasn't going to work any better than last time. He needed to believe that because it was one of the reasons he continually gave himself for ignoring his feelings for her, and the longer she lasted without any real struggle, the more he wondered how flimsy his excuse was.

"No, you're trying to act like a…"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I was you Commander," Jon stated, his voice deadly quiet.

"Yes sir!" Trip replied, coming to attention. "My apologies to the captain sir, I just felt he had a right to know when he was treating his officer disrespectfully," he said, his voice low and mocking.

Jon flushed slightly, embarrassed at being caught. He knew that he'd been taking his frustrations out on her professionally yet again, but the thought that the crew knew that was what he was doing disturbed him. "The crew needs to know she can handle needling," he replied, uncomfortable with having to explain his actions.

"The crew needs to know that their captain and first officer are on speaking terms!" Trip exclaimed, breaking stance and looking him in the face.

"We're speaking," Jon protested. "We just had a whole conversation not five minutes ago, didn't you see it? It might not have been the warmest conversation…"

"Not the warmest? Jon, I've seen icicles in December that were warmer than your attitude towards her just now."

"You're exaggerating," he scoffed. "Besides, you simply said I need to talk to her, and I do."

"Outside of the bridge?" Trip challenged. "I haven't seen her in the captain's mess in weeks, or if she's there than you're not. It's like the two of you are avoiding each other. Avoidance and antagonism. Do you want her to go back to Vulcan?"

_"Go back to Vulcan?"_ Jon thought, blanching. "No!" he exclaimed without thinking, speaking straight from the heart.

"Well she thinks you do. She doesn't think you can forgive her for all the crap that's happened in the last year, she thinks you're trying to get rid of her. Jon, you know the Vulcans will never accept her, not now that she's all emotional."

"I like her emotional," Jon defended.

"Well I do too, but they won't. So I ask again, are you tryin' to get rid of her?"

"I don't want her to leave," Jon admitted quietly, sitting down slowly. "You have no idea how much I don't want that," he said, almost to himself.

Trip heard though, and he stared at him, seeing for the first time the truth in the jests he'd made a few months earlier. "You're in love with her," he stated, amazed, taking a seat across from him.

"What?" Jon asked, searching desperately for a way to deny it. Taking one look at his friend's face, he knew it was pointless—Trip could see it all, Trip had lived it himself.

"Ya heard, me, you're in love with her. Don't try to deny it… no wonder she tried those emotions out on you! She musta figured out how you felt and…"

"Trip. Stop, please," Jon requested, closing his eyes. _"She figured out how I felt and used it against me? Used me the same way she used Trip?"_ In all his many rehashes of their one kiss, that was one possibility that had never occurred to him. Having the one moment he'd shared with her ripped away from him left a gaping hole in his heart, and he gasped for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

Trip winced, guilty that he'd unwittingly opened some wounds. "Ah, I'm sorry Jon. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, I'd just rather not talk about that," Jon said heavily.

"So you are in love with her," Trip restated for verification.

"Why are you pressing this?" he asked, wanting to change the focus of the conversation. "I would have thought you'd still be a little upset, after all, you two only ended your relationship a few months ago."

"We split on account of irreconcilable differences," Trip said cheekily. "And ya know, I'm happier now. You however are not, which tells me you must be in love with her."

"I'm not sure I know what love is anymore," Jon said, shaking his head. "A year ago, if you'd asked me if I was in love with T'Pol… yeah, I would have said yes. But so much has happened since then…"

"Love is when… ah hell, I don't think I know either!" Trip said, getting a slight chuckle out of his friend. "But I know it when I see it, and you're in love with her," he declared, crossing his arms in front of him.

Jon smiled, almost whimsically. "All right, if you say so," he teased. "After all, you are the expert. Let's see, since we've been in space, you've had how many relationships? There was T'Pol of course, and the princess, oh, and let's not forget the time you got pregnant…"

"That's right, just call me Trip 'Lover boy' Tucker," he jested. Joining his friend in the laughter that filled the room, he realized it had been too long since he'd heard him laugh. He'd been worried about him.

"Tell me something Jon," he said, his earlier concern for his friend giving him an idea. _"Friends care about each other and get a little concerned, I'm betting what he felt was deeper…" _"T'Pol said you were angry when you found out she'd been taking the Trellium. Why were you upset?"

"Because it was dangerous," Jon replied immediately, knowing he was giving himself away even as he said it.

"That's what I thought, you were scared for her. No, you were scared that you'd lose her. Yep, you're in love with her… me, I didn't even see that for days. All I could think about was how that meant our relationship hadn't been real."

"Believe me, I know how that feels too," Jon muttered, feeling again the sharp stab of betrayal that had lanced through him when he'd discovered she'd gone straight from him to Trip.

"Yeah, I know," Trip said, his voice full of commiseration.

The small room was quiet for a moment, both men lost in thought. Was it better to have loved and lost? Jon still didn't think so, but Trip wasn't so sure. He'd learned a lot from his short relationship with T'Pol. _"Sure, most of it was on what not to do next time,"_ he thought wryly, _"but still, there were good moments. Much as I woulda liked for us to work out, I'm not upset that we tried and failed."_

"But ya know," he said finally, breaking the silence, "you still need to be nicer to her. I mean it Jon, she thinks you're ready to ship her off to Siberia or something."

"Nicer? How do you suggest I go about that?" Jon questioned sardonically.

"Well, you could start by talking to her instead of sniping at her," Trip suggested wryly. "Seriously, watching the two of you on the bridge was like seeing my sister and I in the back seat of the car on a long trip, once we got past the yelling stage and were in the 'I'm not talking to you unless you have the coloring book I want' stage."

"I see your point," Jon admitted reluctantly.

"And then you might try seeing her outside of work."

"Seeing her… Trip, I don't think our relationship is ready for that. I don't think it ever will be," Jon protested, shaking his head.

"I didn't mean it like that. Invite her to eat in the captain's mess. Talk to her about her day, about things she saw on her scans, about how her pink cat suit sets off the color of her eyes…"

"What?"

"Too much?" Trip asked unrepentantly. "Okay then, stick to work for a while. You two used to be friends, you need to be friends again."

"I can do that," Jon agreed, ushering his friend back out onto the bridge.

That night, he had his first chance to prove himself as good as his word. "T'Pol," he said, getting into the lift with her, "I was hoping you would join me in the captain's mess for dinner tonight."

"I was intending to eat in my quarters," she said, almost hesitantly.

The message he received was clear: she did not want to eat with him, but if he made it an order, she would. "I'd appreciate it if you joined me tonight," he said engagingly. "You can retreat to your cabin tomorrow if you want," he promised with a smile as they reached their deck. "So, will I see you for dinner?"

"Yes Captain," she agreed reluctantly.

An hour later, he was sitting alone in his mess, staring at the door and tapping his knife nervously against the table. When the door opened and she walked in, his smiled widely in relief. "I was afraid you weren't going to show again," he explained when she gave him a look of confusion.

"I am not in the habit of breaking engagements," she said stiffly. "I have already apologized for the one time I did so."

"But you have to admit, the circumstances make it stick out in my mind," he reminded her, sitting back slightly as the stewards served them both.

"Captain, if you asked me to join you simply so you can remind me of how greatly I wronged you, I should leave right now. I am aware of that, and I pay for it everyday," she said harshly, hurt that he would bring this up.

"T'Pol! Calm down!" he requested, holding out his hands in a gesture for her to remain seated. "I wasn't going to berate you for that again, I promise you."

"Very well then, what did you wish to discuss?"

He hesitated slightly, not sure if she would welcome this discussion or not. Deciding that she really had no choice, he shrugged and jumped right in. "Trip tells me you're considering going back to Vulcan," he told her quietly.

"That is correct, although I did ask him not to mention it to you," she told him, her irritation obvious.

"He didn't tell me that," Jon said with a frown. "I'm sorry if you feel like he broke your trust, but I have to admit, I'm glad he told me. I'm curious, what made you think about leaving Enterprise?" he asked, despite knowing the answer.

"I understand why you are upset with me, and I can accept that it will never change," she said. "You told me you would not be able to forgive me, and I have realized that I cannot continue living like this."

"I never should have said that," he told her, shaking his head in remorse. _"My runaway tongue strikes again," _he realized, knowing he would have to work on controlling what he said, even if he was hurt and angry.

"You were hurt, you had every right to be," she countered.

"But I didn't have a right to say that. It hurt you, I could tell."

"I know you could tell," she said quietly. "I wanted you to know that you had hurt me, just as you wanted me to know I had hurt you."

He stared at her for a moment, lost in thought. "Emotions can be pretty destructive things, can't they?" he questioned.

"That is why Vulcans have sought to suppress them," she reminded him.

"Yeah, well that doesn't work for all of us," Jon said with a grimace, his thoughts drifting to the nagging love he had for her that just would not go away. "Sometimes, denying emotions just makes them stronger."

He paused, shaking his head. "But I'm getting off track. We're not here to talk about emotions, or how to control them… T'Pol, I don't want you to leave," he said baldly.

"Are you certain you can trust me to do my job?"

"I am certain that I don't want to lose your friendship," he told her.

For the first time all evening, her features relaxed. "I do not want to lose yours either Captain," she told him. "I just did not know there was still a chance to regain it."

Startled and a little humbled by her words, he gave her a genuine smile. "I think we're getting a good start here," he told he honestly.

The look she gave him was tentative at best and filled with doubt. It strengthened his own resolve to show her he was serious about regaining their friendship, but he didn't find an opportunity to do so until he met her several days later in the observation lounge.

"Oh, I'm sorry… I didn't expect anyone to be in here," Jon said, feeling uncomfortable as he stood next to the door, his book in hand.

"I often come here in the evenings to watch the stars," she told him calmly.

"Would you like to be alone? I can always read in my quarters," he offered uncertainly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"No, I do not believe your presence would be distracting," she said.

"What are you drinking?" he asked as he took one of the seats near the windows.

"It is an herbal mint tea," she answered, taking a sip. "I find it soothes my emotions at the end of a long day."

"Was today long?" he asked, setting his book down on the deck next to him and staring at her intently.

"No more than any other day perhaps," she said, "yet I find myself slightly worn out."

"Are you working too hard?" he inquired, his concern slowly building into worry.

"No, I am doing no more than usual. Perhaps as humans are fond of saying, I just had a bad day," she told him quietly, taking another sip of tea.

"I know how that feels," he said, the response feeling stiff and unnaturally on his lips. "There are some days when you have to wonder if it was even worth it to get out of bed."

"I am not sure about that," she countered. "Staying in bed all day for no reason would not be at all logical."

For some reason, the familiarity of her reference to logic calmed him more than anything else could have. Grinning broadly, he grabbed his book and flipped to the page he'd left off on. "You've got a point there," he said, chuckling slightly as he began reading.

The next night when he walked into the observation lounge, he found her waiting with two cups of tea. Without a word, she handed him one and then picked up her own book, curling up in the chair opposite him to read.

That night he found himself wondering exactly what was going on in her head. It was strangely unsettling to realize that he really did not know her very well anymore.

After the tenth time he lost his place when his eyes drifted up to watch her, he snapped his book shut and said, "That's it, this isn't working."

"What isn't working Captain?" she questioned, confused by his abrupt statement.

"Well, first off that," he said. "We were friends once T'Pol, do you think you could call me by my first name?" he requested.

"If I recall, you instructed me to stop doing so," she reminded him.

"Oh. I did, didn't I?" he said, remembering why he'd done so. "Well, you can call me Jonathan again," he told her.

"Very well Jonathan. Was there anything else that bothered you about the situation, or was it simply the fact that you did not think I would use your first name if and when I found it necessary to address you?"

_"Well when she puts it that way, it sounds pretty silly," _he thought sheepishly. "Nothing else right now," he admitted, "but be prepared for more random outbursts like that. I want us to be friends again, T'Pol."

"I would wish for that as well Jonathan," she agreed before looking down at her book again.

A few weeks passed before they crossed paths again in the lounge. This time Jon brought a thermos with him and two mugs. Pouring her a drink, he watched as she carefully sniffed at it, wrinkling her nose at the unfamiliar smell. "It's called spiced cider," he told her, his smile encouraging her to take a sip.

She did so, and then coughed loudly. "It has a very strong flavor Jonathan," she said, taking a drink of her tea to sooth her throat.

"Yeah, it is strong," he agreed. "But I think if you drink it slowly, you might like it," he told her, taking a sip from his own cup.

"I will try it tonight," she acquiesced, taking her usual spot by the window.

He watched her get comfortable and open her book to the page she had marked. "What are you reading?" he asked curiously, thinking that the title appeared to be written in an Earth language.

"It is a French novel of a man who is corrupted by the justice system and then saved from himself by a religious figure."

"Ah, _Les Miserables,_" he said with a smile.

"Yes."

Pulling up his own memories of the story, he asked, "How far have you gotten?"

"I am only through the first section," she told him. "I find the values of this culture very hard to understand. Why was this woman, Fantine, forced to leave her child behind with strangers?"

"She had no money to care for her daughter," Jon explained. "She thought the innkeeper and his family would love her like one of theirs."

"It has been my observation," T'Pol said, "that one rarely loves what belongs to someone else as they would if it was their own."

He stared at her for a moment, struck dumb by her comment. _"Is that why I persisted in thinking of her as Trip's, even after they both told me their relationship was over?"_ he wondered. _"If she belonged to someone else, than I could convince myself that I didn't love her as much…"_

Looking at his expression, she knew she had lost his attention. Somewhat perplexed, she continued her reading, wondering what he was thinking about.


	12. 12

**AN:** After reading some of the reviews for the last chapter, I felt I ought to clarify something. This story was written in its entirety last June--before S4 aired. It was intended to be a post-finale fic, and as such does not follow any of the events of season 4. Due to... several things, I didn't watch any of season4, so just pretend it didn't happen when you read this.

**Chapter 12:**

She wouldn't find out for several months. The brief moment of revelation came and went quietly for him, bringing with it none of the fanfare and pomp he would have expected. He was still in love with her. He would always be in love with her.

The question remained, what should he do about it? She'd been very clear that she wanted to regain her sense of self, her ability to do things without having someone else with her all the time. He could both understand and respect that.

In the meantime, he satisfied himself with simply becoming reacquainted with her, with getting to know the woman she was. After a few weeks of watching her read _Les Miserables_, he'd decided to reread it himself so they could talk about it together. The themes of corruption and redemption sparked many conversations, many starting with a simple question from T'Pol.

"I do not understand," she said one night, "why Fantine would place her child with this man, Jean Valjean. Did she not know he was a criminal?"

"Well… no, she didn't," Jon began, flipping rapidly to the section she was referring to. "But even if she had, it probably wouldn't have mattered to her."

"But how could it not?" she asked, perplexed. "I would not want my child to live with a man who had spent so many years in prison."

"Valjean had changed, T'Pol," he explained gently, seeing the concept was difficult for her to grasp. "He used to be a thief, but he became a good, decent man—one who was willing to give from what he had to help others."

"Is it possible for people to change that much?" she'd questioned skeptically.

"Look at the way he willingly helped the man get out from under the wagon," he said. "He knew Javert was watching, he knew that the officer believed no one but Valjean had the strength to lift the wagon the way he did, and yet he did it anyway, because it was the only way to save the man's life."

Her forehead had wrinkled up as she considered that, until finally, shaking her head in confusion, she'd gone back to reading.

A few nights later, the conversation had turned to the Thénardier family. "If Jean Valjean changed so much, how come Mr. Thénardier did not?" she asked.

"I suppose because Valjean had someone who needed the good in him," Jon said thoughtfully. "Cosette trusted in his goodness."

"But he was already good before even learning of Cosette. What changed him?"

"He had someone who believed he could change," Jon replied simply, hoping she heard the words he didn't say—he had believed she could recover from her addiction. Despite not acting like it at times, he had believed in it, and he was grateful that it had proven true.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "The monsignor," she realized, falling silent again.

Slowly, pieces were starting to come together for her. Things she hadn't understood about humans were making sense, and she had a few personal questions for Jon.

Unfortunately, ship's business kept them going separate ways, and it was several weeks before they were able to share another evening in the lounge. By that time, she had long since finished reading Hugo's epic, and she was unsure if she wanted to ask her questions when she could no longer pretend they were about the book, and not herself.

Looking at her over his teacup, he realized she hadn't said anything since he'd walked in. Setting it down on the table, he asked her, "Do you have something on your mind?"

"No… Yes. I do have a few questions," she decided. "I was unsure if I should ask them, since in a way they relate to the book, but I have decided they are too important to go unasked."

"This sounds serious," he said, looking over at her.

"In a way," she agreed. "Our discussion of redemption and grace raised many questions in my mind. It is not a concept found on Vulcan," she explained.

"No, I can't imagine it is," he said wryly, trying to imagine Soval letting a thief walk out of his house with the silver candlesticks.

"It has made it difficult for me to accept it myself, particularly from you," she told him, watching his face intently.

"From me?" he asked, startled. "Why would you have trouble accepting forgiveness from me?"

"You are the highest authority figure," she explained simply. "Typically on Vulcan, the more authority one has, the less likely they are to be forgiving of faults, especially an inability to restrain one's emotions."

He caught an odd tone in her voice and narrowed his eyes, examining her features. "Why do I get the feeling you've got a specific incident in mind?" he asked.

"Perhaps because I do," she told him levelly.

"Which one, precisely?"

Refusing to bow to her fear, she kept her eyes on him, so she didn't miss the way he flinched when she said, "The moments directly before we kissed."

"Why did I know you were going to say that?" he muttered, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment to mentally prepare himself. "All right, what did you want to know?" he asked.

"If I had told you that I was not sure what I was feeling when I kissed you, that I needed more time to examine my emotions, would you have been upset?"

Startled, he looked up at her to see if she was serious. _"She is,"_ he realized, feeling his heart start to pound. He answered carefully, saying, "I would have been disappointed yes, but I would have appreciated your honesty, and I wouldn't have wanted to pressure you into something you didn't feel ready for."

"And what if I had told you it was an emotional response, one that I was not able to control?"

He grinned, saying, "A kiss is supposed to be an uncontrollable emotional response, T'Pol."

Instead of the quick retort he had expected, he watched in amazement as a pale green blush spread across her face. "I see," she murmured.

"May I ask a question now?" he requested. When she nodded her head, he said, "Are you saying that part of the reason you didn't come talk to me that morning was that you believed I would be upset with you for not controlling your emotions?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "You had already told me that I needed to keep my emotions under control," she reminded him, and he shook his head, wondering how many of their problems over the last year and a half had been caused by his runaway mouth, and not by her runaway emotions.

But maybe they still had a chance, after all. He was still hopelessly in love with her, he'd admitted that to himself weeks ago. Apparently, she had not been as indifferent to him as she had wanted him to think. If she still felt something, perhaps they were being given a second chance

"T'Pol," he asked hesitantly, "do you trust me enough to be completely honest, and vulnerable?"

She was momentarily surprised, but the answer came easily. "Yes Jonathan, I trust you."

"And you know I'm not going to get upset with you for being emotional?" he asked, needing to be sure.

"It may take me some time to fully accept that," she warned. "The old patterns are heavily engrained in me."

"But as long as you'll talk with me, I think we could make it work," he said, almost more to himself than to her.

"Make what work?" she asked, confused.

He ignored her question, still running over ideas and possible outcomes in his mind. The fear of rejection was still strong, and the self-preservation part of him wanted to run the other way and never think about being with her again. But a larger part of him realized that though he might be safer without her, he would never be happy. "Yeah…" He picked up his cup, staring into the swirling pale green liquid as he gathered his thoughts. "T'Pol," he said hesitantly, "You know that your friendship is very important to me."

"And yours to me," she replied warmly.

"Thanks," he told her, flashing her a quick smile. "But… the thing is, I sometimes find myself wondering if we could have more than friendship."

He stared at her intently, willing her to say something—anything. She looked at him speculatively for a moment before moving to watch the stars. "I have noticed a certain pull between us," she admitted quietly.

"Good, you feel it too," he said, letting out a breath. The hardest part was over.

"But I am not certain it would be wise to pursue it," she countered, quickly deflating his feeling of relief. "Our races are so different, we are so different. Would we be able to have a solid relationship?"

"T'Pol, I think it's our differences that would make it work," he said, rising to join her. "We're not complete opposites, we complement each other. Our strengths and weaknesses balance out… we make a good team."

When she didn't answer him for a moment, he got worried. "You do feel something for me, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes Jonathan, I do. I simply do not know…"

"We'll take it slow," he interrupted. "I want to do this the right way."

"I was not aware there was a right or wrong speed in relationships," she said, her brow crinkling.

"The right speed is the one where both people feel comfortable," he said softly. "Would that work for you?"

Grateful that the ball was in her court, she simply nodded.

"Besides, I think I'd rather see if there's something between us than to spend my whole life wondering what if," he told her.

"There is no logic in dwelling on what did not happen," she said automatically, placing her hand on the glass.

"No, there's not," he agreed quietly, lifting his own hand to trace the outline of her fingers on the window. "And there's no logic in avoiding a possible course of action simply because you don't know what it will bring either," he reminded her.

"On that, we are in agreement," she said, her voice equally soft.

"Then shall we try this, see where it goes?" he asked, holding his breath.

"No." Before he could object, she faced him, placing one hand on his chest, open palm, in a gesture for him to wait. "I do not want to play with emotions like that again Jonathan," she told him. "If I enter another relationship, it will be with much greater purpose than that. Trying emotions out just to see what happens is dangerous and often has disastrous results, at least in my experience."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"I appreciated what you said earlier about moving slowly. There are clearly emotions between us, and I would like to consider the possibilities in them… but the risk of getting hurt or hurting someone again is not pleasant. Moving slowly and with purpose should minimize that risk, should it not?"

"It might," he allowed, a small smile creeping across his face. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

"It means that I am willing to explore a relationship with you, Jonathan Archer," she said, her voice firm and her expression clear.


	13. 13

**AN: **I'm sorry I've dragged this out so long. To be honest, I'm always a little hesitant posting an A/T story here at since I've received some really negative feedback. I was really nervous about this story, since it actually does explore the T/T relationship. I was afraid that when it started getting more strictly A/T, they would get upset. So... that's the reason.

**Chapter 13:**

Jon frowned, watching as his science officer/girlfriend fled the bridge at the end of their shift before he could catch up with her. _"Maybe it's just my imagination, but I'd swear she's been avoiding me this week,"_ he mused. _"I wonder if something's wrong…"_

For a moment, he was tempted to jump to a conclusion—maybe she'd decided she didn't want a relationship after all, or maybe something was wrong with her. Past experience though curtailed the impulse, and instead he resolved to simply enjoy a solitary dinner, just as he had every other night this week.

But when he entered the captain's mess and saw the steward clearing away dishes that had clearly contained Vulcan delicacies, things that could only be classified as T'Pol's comfort foods, he changed his mind. _"I can't just let this go,"_ he decided. _"__Something is bothering her. I can't let her just brood on it, she needs to talk to someone."_

Skipping dinner, he went directly to her quarters, but she wasn't there. Turning around, he went to the other place onboard ship that she seemed to feel most comfortable.

He found here there ten minutes later, staring out at the stars. "Hey, I though I'd lost you on this ship," he said lightly.

She gave him a brief look of irritation instead of the humor he'd expected. "I did not expect you to find me here," she said shortly.

"T'Pol, what's wrong?" Jon asked, moving to place a hand gently on her shoulder.

She flinched away, saying, "Don't touch me!"

He took a step back and sat down on the couch, willing to give her the space she needed. Waiting for her to tell him what was going on, he watched her pace for a few minutes, noticing the agitation in her motions. _"Something is really bothering her,"_ he realized. _"And whatever it is, it's big."_

Unease built in his gut, and just when he didn't think he could handle waiting any longer to find out what was wrong, she spoke. "I am sorry," she said, her eyes clouded. "I did not mean to snap at you, but your touch was more than I could deal with at the moment."

"Want to tell me why?" he asked softly, not moving from his spot.

"Sometimes, when you touch me, I find I am… unable to think clearly," she admitted, not sure if she should tell him the whole truth.

"Well believe me, the feeling's mutual," he told her with a relieved grin. "But that brings me back to my original question, what's bothering you?"

She started to speak, and then stopped. _"Will he understand what I am saying?"_ she wondered. _"Or will he only hear the first half?"_

"I am not sure this is working," she said finally, gesturing between them.

"What do you mean?" he asked tightly.

"Our relationship," she explained.

"I know, but what exactly about it isn't working for you?" he questioned, needing specifics.

"I find I am… unsettled when I am with you. I usually remain calm, but my emotions are not completely under my control, as they are at other times. I am not sure why, but I believe it has something to do with our relationship."

He smiled a little, starting to understand what her concern was, even if she didn't. "You mean, sometimes you feel like you know exactly what's happening, and then at other times your insides get all twisted up and you don't know if it's day or night?" he summarized.

"That is a decent explanation of it, yes," she agreed. "So you see why I am not sure that this will work. Clearly, things are not the way they ought to be."

"Oh, but they are," he told her, smiling broadly. "That's exactly what a romantic relationship does to you in the beginning."

"These emotions… it is not just the Trellium?" she questioned, needing to know if what she was feeling was real.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "T'Pol, you're going to have to accept that some things that may not have happened to you before will now. You can't say it's 'just the Trellium,' when the truth is, the Trellium is a part of you. That's never going away."

"I know," she agreed reluctantly. "Sometimes I wish it would though," she added, almost petulantly.

"Do you want our relationship to go away as well?" he asked.

"No… but I do not believe they go hand in hand as much as you seem to think," she told him, giving him an assessing look.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Jonathan, I was aware of a connection between us long before we entered the Expanse," she told him, taking in his shocked look. "Weren't you?"

"I knew there was something… yeah… but… wow," he said, never having imagined that she might have had feelings for him for that long, or that they might have started before her first encounter with Trellium. "So what you're saying is…"

"I am saying, Jonathan, that as long as you can believe this is real, I can do the same."

"I can do that," he said, feeling a weight lift that he hadn't known he'd been carrying. _"I was fine with the thought that it was her new, open emotions that led to our relationship," _he thought, dazed by the revelations. _"But knowing that the old T'Pol, the one who would deny she even had emotions… that she felt something for me, when I was starting to fall for her…that's more than I ever hoped for."_

"Jonathan?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?"

"I was under the impression that it did not disturb you, knowing that without the Trellium, we likely would not have formed a relationship. Was I mistaken?"

He looked up at her then, both a little scared at how easily she had read him, and upset that she would jump to that conclusion. "T'Pol," he said gently, sitting down in a chair and pulling her down next to him, "I was no less excited about our relationship when I thought that the Trellium allowed you to have feelings you didn't have before."

"Then why did it mean so much to learn that I was drawn to you before?" she questioned, pulling her hand from his.

He sighed, wondering how he could explain this to her. "I don't know," he admitted, starting first with the basic truth. "I've never thought that what we had was less than real because of the outside influence, because I know that the Trellium itself is out of your system and has been for over a year. Maybe it's just…"

She waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, she said, "Because what?"

"Well, I don't know if this will make any sense or not, so bear with me a little bit," he instructed, taking her hand again and mindlessly playing with her fingers. "I think… perhaps… that it just feels good knowing that even if we hadn't been in this situation, we still might have gotten together. It takes away the what ifs, which is a good thing. I don't have to feel grateful to the Trellium for getting us together anymore…"

"You were grateful to an inanimate substance?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, not exactly. Maybe more to the situation, and that made me feel guilty. I know that you still wish you could have all your control back, and yet here I was, glad that you didn't have it, because that was what had given me you. Now I don't have to think that anymore, because we might have found each other, even without the Trellium. Does that make sense?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Not really," she said frankly, "but I am willing to accept that it does to you."

"That's good," he said, his eyes lighting up with humor. "At least you can trust me enough to know my own mind," he teased, picking up her hand again and tracing her fingers with his own.

"Jonathan, I simply conceded that it might be logical to you. I did not say I believe you know your own mind," she replied archly.

For a moment, he just gaped at her, the sudden show of Vulcan humor surprising him, as it always did. "We need to put you on the comedy circuit," he muttered. "You're a regular laugh a minute."

She paused, tilting her head to one side as if she were considering it. "I do not believe that would be as satisfying a profession as being a science officer on a starship, but I do appreciate the… vote of confidence?" she said, adding a hint of a question to the final phrase.

"Yeah, you got that one right," he said with a chuckle. "Where are you picking up all these patterns of speech, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Commander Tucker has been more than happy to share a few of his more colorful phrases with me," she told him, unaware that she was stepping into a hornet's nest. "I have chosen a few that please me to incorporate into my own usage," she added.

"Commander Tucker?" he asked tightly, dropping her hand and placing his own on his knees. "Have you been spending a lot of time with Trip?" he questioned, the teasing glint in his eyes hardening.

"You have been busy many evenings lately, and unable to join me in the captain's mess for dinner," she reminded him. "Trip has been kind enough to see to it that I was not forced to eat a solitary meal."

"Solitary meals didn't seem to bother you before," he countered.

"That was before I grew accustomed to companionship," she explained, still not seeing the anger growing in him. "Now I have found that it is much more pleasant to eat with someone than alone."

"And is that why we're together?" he said hotly. "You just needed someone to eat with, and I was handy? Well gee, might as well make it a regular thing then, shouldn't we? Wouldn't want to have to eat alone, and the captain seems more than willing to…"

"Jonathan!" she cut in. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and me T'Pol. I'm talking about you spending time with your ex-boyfriend and not telling me about it. Where's the honesty I thought was so important to Vulcans? Or does that not matter when _emotions_ are involved?" he sneered, his expression ugly.

"You are jealous," she realized, amazed.

"Damn right I'm jealous," he shouted, jumping to his feet. "You spent months in a relationship with him, and now I find out that you've been spending enough of your spare time with him that you're picking up his Trip-isms? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be jealous," he demanded.

She rose to her feet slowly and moved to stand in front of him, observing his face the whole time. Anger was there, yes, but if she looked beyond the red face and frown, she could see something else—fear. This was not the time for recriminations, or to simply tell him that he should trust her. Despite the truth in those words, he needed something more. He needed reassurances, and she was finally ready to give them to him.

"Because, I do not love Commander Tucker," she told him softly, making sure he was looking at her when she did.

That way, she could watch the confusion flit across his expression and then clear, his eyes widening as the words sunk in. He took in every subtle nuance on her face, looking for any sign that she was not being completely honest with him, and when he found none, his eyes slid shut at the sheer pleasure of it all.

"I love you too," he whispered finally when he had his emotions under control.

"I know," she answered seriously. "Because of that, I trust that you when you say you are busy running the ship, you are not actually spending the evening with another woman. Can you extend the same trust to me, now you know my feelings mirror your own?"

Jon nodded somewhat guiltily. "I should have trusted you," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.

"You should have," she agreed. "However, your emotions were speaking for you. I understood what was happening, and addressed you similarly."

The uniquely T'Pol way in which she couched her summary of their discussion made him smile. _"Not many women would refer to an avowal of love as 'addressing you similarly'," _he thought, suppressing a chuckle. _"Just one of many reasons why I love her."_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

Jon glanced nervously down the corridor as he got off the lift. _"What would the crew think if they knew what I'm planning?"_ he worried. _"And will I get a chance to tell them, or will I be shot down sometime between now and then?"_

"Could I have a word with you Trip?" Jon asked, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder just as he got to his quarters.

"Sure Cap'n, ya wanna come in and sit down?" Trip offered, keying in the entry code and opening the door.

"Thanks Trip, and it's Jon. I need to talk to my friend for a moment."

"Is somethin' wrong Jon?" Trip asked, worry darkening his gaze.

"No, I just…" he paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Are you still in love with T'Pol?" he asked suddenly.

Trip blinked for a second before he started laughing. "Is that what this is about?" he asked, amused.

"Is that what this is all about?"

"Did you come to ask me if I'm okay with you marrying my ex-girlfriend?"

Jon flushed and turned away. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds pretty stupid," he mumbled.

"Nah, not stupid," Trip told him. "Just kinda silly."

"I guess you wouldn't have any problems with it then?" Jon prodded.

"None, as long as you take care of her," Trip replied, getting serious. "Listen Jon, I'm not in love with her anymore, if that's what you were wondering." He smiled slightly when his friend's whole frame relaxed, knowing he'd hit the nail on the head. "However," he continued, "I do still care for her as a friend, a whole lot. So if I think you're hurting her, you won't be able to stop me from haulin' off and slapping you upside the head with a two by four."

"I have no intention of hurting her," Jon promised, holding his hand out for Trip to shake.

"So, how're ya gonna ask?" Trip prodded, sitting back on his couch and propping up his feet on the table.

"I thought I'd do it tonight," Jon told him.

"Ah, in the observation lounge over your tea?" Trip asked knowingly.

"How did you know about that?" Jon asked incredulously.

"Me? Jon, the whole ship knows about it," Trip teased. "Why else did you think the room was magically open for you most nights?"

Jon stopped to consider, realizing they had rarely had to go someplace else. The lounge was almost always empty. "I never really thought about it," he said, cocking his head to one side. "Well, I guess I don't have to worry about how to tell the crew," he muttered, more to himself than to Trip.

Trip waited for him to explain the comment, but when he didn't he shrugged and repeated his question. "So, is that where you're gonna ask?"

"I was planning on it," Jon said.

"Do you have a ring for her?" Trip questioned.

"Yeah, I do… I just hope she'll wear it," he said, thinking not for the first time that jewelry might not be considered very logical.

"Can I see it?" Trip requested.

Jon pulled it out and handed it over, watching as Trip inspected it carefully. "Yeah, you've got a pretty simple ring here. The stones don't stick out, so they won't catch on anything, and the band is slim enough that she wouldn't feel like she's wearing some huge lug, but big enough to not be fragile. It's her style."

"Good, I thought so too," Jon said, relieved that he had done the right thing. "But do you think she'll say yes?" he asked uncertainly.

Trip sighed, wondering how to answer that question. Finally, he said honestly, "I don't know."

Jon's face fell slightly and he tucked the ring back in his pocket. "Maybe I ought to wait then," he mumbled dejectedly.

"Wait a minute there!" Trip ordered. "I didn't say I think she'll turn you down flat, I said I don't know! I've never been able to read her as well as you can Jon, I don't always know what she's thinking just by watching her posture. You can answer that better than I can, do you think she'll say yes?"

Jon opened his mouth and then shut it, before opening it again and saying, "I think she will, yes."

"She loves you."

He exhaled a breath, taking comfort in that. In the four months since they'd first said the words, she'd made sure he never doubted how she felt about him. The Vulcan in her was often uncomfortable with the overt nature of using the words, so she more often gave gestures of love, but they were there, and he knew what they meant. "I know."

"She trusts you too."

"I know."

"Then what were you so worried about?"

"That she wouldn't think that was enough," he answered.

Trip shook his head and muttered to himself, "What is it with people in love?" Placing his hands on Jon's shoulders, he shook him slightly and then forced him to look him straight in the eye. "Jon. I can think of plenty of things T'Pol wants in life…" He paused, watching Jon mentally go over a list he had. "Stop it," he ordered. "Don't go convincing yourself that there are things she wants more than to be with you."

"But you just said…"

"Are there things you want? Bein' a starship captain, having kids maybe… things like that?"

"Of course."

"And does wanting those things make you want to marry T'Pol any less?"

Jon started to answer, then stopped and considered. "So you're saying I'm being stupid," he summarized.

"Pretty much," Trip said with a grin. "Now get out there and propose," he commanded, shoving his friend out the door.

For a moment, Jon just stood in the corridor, frozen in place. What if… Shaking his head forcefully, he continued on his way. _"I can't lose myself in the possibilities," _he told himself sternly. _"And besides, even T'Pol agreed that it's not logical to avoid something simply because you're afraid of how it might turn out."_

Was he nervous? His clammy palms and the way his hands shook slightly as he walked down the hall answered that question. But in the end, he couldn't deny the way he felt anymore than he could deny who he was—it was a part of who he was.

When he entered the observation lounge, she had their nightly tea ready. "You are later than usual tonight Jonathan," she said, rising to greet him.

A sudden image of the old version of T'Pol greeting him similarly came to mind, and he knew he was doing the right thing. "I've had something on my mind," he said, trying to ease into the subject.

"Is it something you would like to share?" she asked, meeting the issue head-on.

"I think so. My only question is if you'll want to hear it."

"The only way to find out is to try," she pointed out logically, as he had known she would.

"You're right," he conceded and motioned for her to take a seat. When she had done so, he clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing in front of her, trying to work off his nerves as he talked.

"T'Pol, how long have we been in a relationship now?" he asked first.

"Approximately eight months," she replied, confused by his actions. _"I need to follow his lead until he is comfortable telling me exactly what he is thinking about though,"_ she told herself, resisting the urge to probe for details.

"That's right," he agreed. "And wouldn't you say it's gone pretty well? I mean, we've learned things about each other, we've become closer…"

"Of course," she said, her brow furrowing as she tried to follow his train of thought.

"There have been some bumps along the way, but that's the be expected, right? There's no such thing as the perfect relationship, especially when you're talking about a cross-cultural relationship. And we worked out our disagreements, we didn't just get angry and bitter… I think we're doing pretty good," he said, nodding decisively.

"Jonathan, what…" she started to ask, but he interrupted her before she could get the full question out.

"T'Pol," he said, standing still in front of her and pulling her to her feet, "will you marry me?"

For a moment, all she could do was gape at him. Rushing to fill the uncomfortable silence, he said, "I guess it might be a little fast—we did talk about moving slow in the beginning. And I know there will be problems from both of our governments, although I really can't see what business it is of theirs. But even though I know all of those things, I know one other thing that makes it so important for me to ask… I love you, and you love me, and I think that…"

"Yes," she said quickly, stopping his string of run-on sentences.

"What?" he asked, his mind not catching up with what she was saying.

"I said yes," she repeated, enjoying the expression on his face.

"But… but…" He floundered for a moment. He'd been so sure that she would argue that he wasn't prepared for her easy agreement. "Don't you think it's a little too early?"

"No," she replied, surprised for a moment that she truly did not. "I asked for the time in the beginning because I was unsure of my emotions. That is no longer the case."

"What about others? You know they'll put up a fit, saying it's not right for a human and a Vulcan to be in a relationship, much less married. Are you prepared to deal with that?"

"What they choose to believe or accept is their problem. Our relationship is our own, and if we need fight for it, then it is ours to fight for."

"That was rather eloquent," he said.

"It was a choice I made when I decided to love you, Jonathan Archer. And now it is a choice we are making together… unless you were trying to talk me out of marrying you?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow in teasing.

"No no, I'm not trying to talk you out of it," he said quickly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring. "But you need to let me do this right," he declared, pushing her gently back into her chair.

"I was unaware there was a right and wrong way to do it," she said bemusedly, watching as he dropped to one knee in front of her and pulled something out of his pocket.

"Oh, there is," he assured her as he opened up a jewelry box. "Now, I don't know how Vulcans feel about wearing jewelry, or rings in particular, but this is an old earth custom, so humor me." She nodded slightly and he continued. "T'Pol, I love you and I want to share my life with you. You bring logic and order to my life, and I couldn't live without it. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will marry you. You are correct, we love each other, so it is the logical thing to do."

Pulling the ring out of it's velvet casing, he started to slip it on her finger before hesitating. "Are you comfortable wearing this?" he asked. "Or should I put it away somewhere, maybe find a chain for you to wear it on?"

"Jonathan, it is clearly a custom that is important to you," she told him, taking the ring from him and beginning to slip it on the first finger of her right hand. "I believe that I can… It does not fit," she said, staring down at it.

Fighting a grin, he pulled it off and placed it on the correct finger. "It goes here," he told her, slipping it into place.

"That is part of the custom?" she queried, realizing that she had seen many humans on earth wearing a band on the third finger of their left hands.

"It is," he confirmed, admiring the way the gold glimmered against the pale green of her skin.

"Jonathan," she said, pulling his gaze up to her face. "I did mean what I said earlier. There will be people upset with the idea of our relationship, but we do not need to concern ourselves with that overmuch. And if it comes to it, we can fight for what is ours."

Lifting himself up slightly, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. Her words, the devotion they expressed, it touched him, and he wanted to show her that. But as always, as soon as he felt her lips against his, he was lost in a completely different wave of feelings. Standing and pulling her up with him, he tugged her in closer, reveling in the sensation of her body against his.

Despite knowing there would be discouragement coming from all sides; standing there, kissing her, he could feel nothing but excitement about what their future might hold. There would be battles to be fought, but if they faced them together, and with tonight's decision firmly in mind, then they were already won.


	15. Chapter 15

**Epilogue:**

2161

San Francisco

Jonathan Archer looked around, still surprised by how familiar his surroundings were. Despite all he had seen, it was hard to believe that he had been here before, that this was actually happening just as he had seen.

The coliseum was packed, just as it had been seven years ago when Daniels had shown him this event. Representatives from each of the four planets signing the charter filled the seats, in addition to the officials on the dais. There was a special feeling in the air, as if everyone present knew exactly how historical this day was.

The signatories and their aides and companions knew more than anyone else. They had been through the sticky points in designing an agreement between four so very different worlds. The four of them, Admiral Forrest, Shran, Soval, and the Tellerite representative were all poised with pen in hand, ready to sign the charter of the United Federation of Planets.

All the speeches had been given earlier in the day, and Jon was eager to get off the dais and back to his life on his starship. For four years now he'd split his attentions between his true love, and his calling. There was no doubt that he was the one with the experience and contacts necessary to put the Federation into place, but he couldn't deny that he would enjoy the feeling of hull plating beneath his feet again once this was all over.

The actual signing of the document took only a few moments. There were a few brief moments of humor when the nib fell off the antique fountain pen and rolled to the edge of the first step, but once it was in place again, it was simply a few strokes of ink before it was done.

The Federation was a reality. Seven years ago, he'd told Daniels that history would just have to survive without him; now he understood why the other man had been so desperate for him to survive. Living with these people, working with them, it had shown him how much more they could accomplish as a unit than they could together. He'd put his life's blood into this project, and it was immensely satisfying to see it finally come to fruition.

When the pen was set down after the final signature and the audience burst into loud applause, Jon smiled and waved at the crowd with his colleagues. He glanced around, taking in some familiar faces, and then one jumped out at him that he hadn't expected to see.

Nudging his wife in the side as they walked off the platform, he whispered, "Daniels is here."

"That is not wholly unexpected," she told him, following his gaze upward to catch sight of the man who had so thoroughly changed their lives. "He was after all most interested in this moment. It only makes sense that he would have come to watch it again."

"Should we go say hello?" he asked, already weaving through the crowd, letting her follow him.

"It's good to see you again Captain," Daniels said when they reached him. "It's been a while."

"Seven years," Jon acknowledged. "I have to say, I didn't really think you'd manage to leave us alone… I was sure you'd be back to meddle again… Ow!" he muttered, shooting his wife a glare.

"I apologize for my husband Mr. Daniels," T'Pol said smoothly. "He may be a high ranking diplomat, but sometimes he does forget his manners. It is good to see you here," she told him.

"Well, you already know how glad I am that you're here," Daniels said, alluding to the many instances he had attempted to "fix" the timeline so this would still happen. "As for how long it's been since we've seen each other… after my last visit, I was banned from adjusting things in your time."

"Ah… so that's why," Jon said mildly, not wanting another elbow in his stomach. "Well, if you'll excuse us, there are people I need to talk to. For the record Daniels, I'm glad I was able to see you here today," he said, his voice meaningful.

"I'm glad as well Captain," Daniels agreed, shaking the hand he was offered.

From his seat high in the balcony, Daniels watched with pleasure as they mingled with their colleagues. This was one time in history he never got tired of coming back to, and it was especially satisfying this time, since he knew more than anyone how much had happened to get these people to this point.

In the years since the Xindi attack on Earth, the humans had grown more interested in interstellar politics, even beginning to initiate treaties and agreements. Their seeking out of new life had been for the benefit of other cultures, not just their own. They were ready for this step, just as they had been every other time he'd watched.

And the most vivid sign of that was this couple that had stood on the dais with Admiral Forrest and Ambassador Soval. Jonathan and T'Pol Archer had taken their rightful places of honor as the ones instrumental in bringing this about. The relationship they had forged in turmoil and fought for through the struggles had become the model for how a government should work between different peoples: Compromise, understanding, and good communication were the keys.

An interspecies marriage was not easy, and they'd had their share of difficulties, ranging from the prejudice of others, to simple lack of communication and cultural differences. No other couple was in the position to give advice to a burgeoning interstellar government as much as they were, and he was glad to see the other diplomats sitting up and taking notice, actually realizing that the experience Archer brought to the table was much more hands on than most of what they had.

Yes, despite his continued reputation as a screw-up, Daniels felt like he'd done at least one thing right. He had created in Archer the seed of a vision that would grow into something great. Fate had just happened to water it with a love that was even greater.

**AN:** And that's it! I'm sorry it took me so long to get the epilogue up, I thought I had it ready and then I couldn't find it… had to go digging around on my computer for it. Thanks for your patience, and for your loyal reading.


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